


invisible string

by steamingcupoftea



Series: invisible string universe [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxious Martin Blackwood, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Worms (The Magnus Archives), M/M, Paranoid Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Pining, Retelling of the series, Sad Tim Stoker, Self-Reflection, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, The Magnus Archives Season 1, The Magnus Archives Season 2, The Magnus Archives Season 3, The Magnus Archives Season 4, Tim Stoker Swears (The Magnus Archives)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 42,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27064663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steamingcupoftea/pseuds/steamingcupoftea
Summary: Martin had always been a little bit of a romantic and wondered who would finally say the words written on his arm. He kept quiet about it, not wanting to upset his mum, but his daydreams were full of scenarios of how their meeting would happen.If Jon was honest, most days he could barely remember what the words on his arm said. He figured it was freeing to not have to think about if each new person he met was going to be “The One”. Besides, who was fate to decide who could bring him happiness?***Buckle up and get ready for a retelling of s1-s4 of The Magnus Archives through the soulmate au lens.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sasha James/Tim Stoker
Series: invisible string universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136963
Comments: 193
Kudos: 255





	1. i used to think i'd meet somebody there

**Author's Note:**

> I need yall to know I started this fic at the end of July and am only just now getting to posting it because I wrote half the fic before I could figure out how chapter 1 should go. 
> 
> Shoutout to Rusty Quill for posting the liveshow and making it completely canonical, therefore giving us Jon and Martin's first words to each other. Also, thanks to the early access chat in the rqo discord for putting this brainworm in my head and making me want to write the longest fic I've ever attempted. Specifically thanks Jadzia for your amazing art that pushed me to actually put words to paper, I'll link below for yall to see! 
> 
> Title credit to Taylor Swift. I'm that cliche bitch and yes every chapter title will be a lyric from "invisible string". 
> 
> Without further ado, here begins a condensed rewrite of the Magnus Archives if they were living in a world where the first words your soulmate says to you were written on your arm.

Today was the big day. Jon sighed as he looked in the mirror and straightened out his blazer again, brushing off an invisible piece of lint from his shoulder. It was a bit more professional than his usual look, but he figured it was best to dress up for the new position. He needed to look the part of Head Archivist, after all. Once he was certain that his clothes looked alright and he’d pushed his hair back into something that looked remarkably tame, he nodded once at his reflection. He just wanted everything to go smoothly. 

Jon grabbed his laptop bag and his lunch and slowly made his way outside. His commute was absolutely average. He took his familiar route down the road to the station, taking the tube most of the way to work. Everything went just how it had for the last four years he’d been working at the Institute. Jon didn’t know why he expected anything different, but something made him feel like today was just going to be so much more. He supposed those just had to be first day jitters or something. The new promotion had him nervous.

It wasn’t like he was even fully qualified for it, either. Who knew why Elias chose him specifically, rather than any of his other, more senior, colleagues. He could think of a few off the top of his head who would be better suited for the position. Still, he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

He got all the train and made his way back up onto the street, letting the anonymity of the city engulf him. He always enjoyed his commute to work. He took a more leisurely pace and watched as the different people bustled around him. A woman clutching a stack of papers to her chest, clearly nervous about some presentation or something. Another person with a phone pressed to their ear, yelling about some business deal. A man holding a child’s hand, the little girl grinning as she held onto a pink book bag. All of them had lives and stories to tell and Jon wanted nothing more than to just be able to sit and watch them all walk past. 

But alas, there wasn’t time for that. The people started to become less and less the closer he got to the Magnus Institute with just a few passing by here and there as he finally made it to the building. 

He walked up the stairs and into the imposing building, nodding to the few people he recognized from research before making his way to Elias’s office. He never really had a reason to go there before, not before last week when he was called in to be informed of his promotion. It looked… fancier than the rest of the building with the big ornate portrait of Jonah Magnus, the institute’s founder, just behind his desk. It was a little imposing if he was honest, but Elias seemed kind enough. 

Jon smiled at Elias’s assistant as he walked up, the woman giving him a skeptical smile in return. “Hello, um, I’m Jonathan Sims? The new Head Archivist?” he said, hoping she would know where to direct him or could show him down to his office. 

Her face lit up in recognition, nodding her head quickly. “Yes, of course. Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Sims, I’m Rosie. Mr. Bouchard told me to expect you. He’s very busy at the moment, but I can show you down to the archives and to your office,” she said, standing up from her desk and smoothing down her skirt as she did so. 

Jon let out a small breath of relief and nodded, gesturing for her to lead the way. “Of course. Thank you. And it’s a pleasure to meet you, as well.”

Rosie just waved a hand and grabbed a set of keys from her desk before heading down the hallway. “It’s no problem at all. I’m just glad we have someone who can fill the position so soon, what with everything that happened,” she said cheerily, making Jon furrow his brow. 

“Right,” he said slowly, not wanting to pry too much. Of course there had been rumors that floated around Research, but… Well, the people there loved to gossip. 

He followed her down the stairs and through the door labeled “Archives”. It seemed simple enough. There were three desks set in the room, likely for his assistants, a door off to the side that likely led to where the majority of the statements were kept, and finally a door at the back with “Head Archivist” written on the frosted glass. Clearly that would be his office. He followed Rosie through the main room and waited patiently as she unlocked the door and handed him the key. 

“This one is all yours,” she said, glancing around the drab room but not letting that cheery smile leave her lips. 

“Right, yes, thank you. I… Well, suppose I’m not sure where to begin quite yet,” he said, looking around at the mess. There were boxes of statements around the room and a few just left out on the desk.

“Of course. I’m sure Mr. Bouchard will have time in his schedule later to come down and give you the proper tour of the place and go over your duties.”

Jon nodded and looked around the room. “Right, of course. I’m sure he’s quite a… busy man. I can find some things to do in the meantime. Like… Working towards digitizing some of the statements and… filing,” he said, doing his best not to make eye contact as he spoke, looking around the office instead.

Rosie just raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Right, of course,” she said, picking up the nearest box of statements and setting them down on his desk flicking through some of the files. “You clearly have your work cut out for you.”

Jon just furrowed his brow further. “Did… Well, did the previous archivist… leave anything to outline what she was doing..?” he asked, somewhat hopefully. 

Rosie frowned and stared down at the box more intently. “No, not to my knowledge. She was… getting a little bit older and I think things were getting hard for her before she-” Rosie said slowly, cutting herself off before she continued with that thought. 

Jon internally cursed at the thought that he had nothing to go on, but his curiosity only grew at what really happened to her. 

“Did you ever meet her?” Rosie asked, driving the conversation forward before Jon could ask anything. 

Jon shook his head. “No, not really. Just remember seeing her come into Research a few times. She seemed… Well, I don’t think she liked anyone in thepartment much.”

Rosie gave a laugh at that, shaking her head as she looked at the empty chair behind the desk. “Not sure she liked anyone much, so I wouldn’t take it to heart,” she said, shaking her head. 

Jon nodded a little, feeling a little bit better after hearing that. Rosie talking a bit more freely made that little bubble of courage in him swell, pushing him to ask the question brewing on his mind. “What actually happened to her?” he asked before he could stop himself. 

That made her pause for a moment, glancing down at the desk as she likely thought of what to tell him. It made the pit in Jon’s stomach worse, but he didn’t want to give up so easily.

“You know, there were quite a lot of rumors floating around once the position opened up. Someone even said she died at the very desk,” he said with a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood and pry a bit more information out of Rosie. 

The look on her face made him wish he’d dropped it. “Oh,” Jon said softly, wishing more than anything he could let his business professional mask fall. “Right.”

“Well, clearly she didn’t die at this desk. But… Well, we’re not entirely sure where she-” Rosie started, but Jon had already heard enough. 

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, running his hand through his hair and probably mussing it up a bit. “It’s my fault for asking questions I didn’t want to know the answer to,” he added, wanting to bash his head against the wall. “Besides, I don’t believe in ghosts.” God, if Georgie heard him right now she’d tear him apart. 

Rosie just gave him a look with a raised eyebrow and nodded once. “Right, well, if you won’t be needing anything else, I’ll be getting back to my desk,” she trailed off, taking a step towards the door and giving him another one of those polite smiles. 

“Right, yes, thank you again, Rosie. Oh. And please thank Elias again for me,” he said quickly as she started walking out the door. 

“I’m sure you can thank him yourself when he comes down later,” she said simply over her shoulder, the door already shutting behind her before he could say anything more. 

With the door closed, his shoulders finally dropped and he let out a loud sigh as he glanced around the room again. So this was his office now. And he was sure his  _ assistants _ would be in soon. God, Jon really had no idea how he’d gotten himself into this mess. 

He figured he might as well make himself busy trying to look like he knew what he was doing, though, so he took out his laptop and tried getting started with recording a few statements. Digitizing things sounded like something he read online as an archivist’s duties. 

He grabbed the first statement from the box, glancing it over for a moment before nodding to himself and clicking record on his laptop.

The whole thing seemed a bit ridiculous, but he couldn’t deny that it did make him feel a little uneasy. Like a story Georgie might cover on her podcast, something that could possibly be believable. He’d never admit it, though. Especially not here. He didn’t want anything thinking he believed in this sort of thing, let alone Tim and Sasha; he needed to keep up an image of professionalism. 

Finishing the statement made him sigh in relief, clicking the stop button on his laptop. He was trying to get the audio to playback when someone threw open the door to his office and practically ran in. 

“Hey sorry; you haven’t seen a dog, have you?” 

Jon blinked in confusion, staring back at the man who was clearly not dressed in the state to be just wandering around the institute. “I’m sorry, what? In general, or?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a link to Jadzia's art that inspired me to open a google doc and plead with my beta reader to let me write this!
> 
> https://sasha-archivist.tumblr.com/post/624447086574845952/after-listening-to-the-live-show-audio-the-early
> 
> And of course, thank you to my beta reader @pepperpotsnpans. Round of applause for her because she doesn't like soulmate aus and she still is beta reading for me.


	2. were there clues i didn't see

Martin put his head in his hands and sighed loudly, glad that it was finally his lunch break so he could at least try to get some of his composure back. He’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t frustrated, confused, and just an all around a mess. 

It had been almost a week since he started his new position as Archival Assistant and he was struggling to keep up. He had absolutely no idea what he was doing, even less so than when he worked in the library, and trying to hide that had become a full time task. Sasha seemed patient with him and he knew Tim didn’t mind helping him out a little, but Jon… Well, he could already tell that Jon did not want to keep spelling things out. And that was only about their work not… Well, Martin still wasn’t sure about the other thing, but he knew he’d have to bring it up eventually. 

He was sitting in the breakroom, mug of tea in front of him, mulling over everything when the door opened and someone else walked in. Still with his head in his hands, Martin hoped more than anything that it  _ wasn’t _ Jon. 

“Martin! Everything alright?” came the cheerful voice, making Martin breathe a small sigh of relief. 

Scrubbing his hands over his face, he looked up at Tim and gave a weak smile. “Yeah, sort of, just a lot going on, I suppose.”

Tim nodded sagely and reached into the fridge, grabbing his lunch to pop in the microwave. “It’s been a long first week, huh?” he said, leaning against the counter with a smile. “We should go out to celebrate! Lord knows Jon won’t join us, but you, me, and Sash could go out for drinks?” 

“Not happening, Stoker. I’ve got plans tonight and you know it,” Sasha said as she came into the room, pulling her salad out of the fridge and flicking on the kettle. 

Tim sighed dramatically and turned to Sasha, giving her a pleading look that was easily deflected with a roll of her eyes and a stern glance in his direction. It was like they were playing out a whole conversation with just shared looks and it almost made Martin a little jealous. Almost. 

After a few moments, Tim just sighed and shook his head. “Fine, fine. I know. You just  _ have _ to watch Bake Off tonight, I get it,” he said and turned back towards Martin to send him a winning smile. “Alright, so just you and me can get drinks tonight?”

Martin huffed a laugh and nodded, shrugging his shoulders a little. “Yeah, okay. Why not? It could be nice,” he said, running a hand through his hair. 

“Perfect! I’ll text you the address of the pub, we can meet there at seven?” Tim asked, grabbing his food out of the microwave just before it could chime loudly. 

“Sounds good,” he said with a weak smile, taking a sip of his tea while Sasha sat down beside Tim. 

“You boys don’t have too much fun without me, yeah?” she said, pushing up her glasses and sending a wink Martin’s way. 

He just nodded back at her, ducking his head again when the door opened one more time and Jon made his way into the room. 

“Bossman!” Tim greeted, the smile obvious in his voice. “You going to join us today? Come on, I’m sure the tape recorders don’t need you  _ that  _ much. Can’t you join your lovely assistants for lunch just once?”

Jon’s sigh sounded bone deep, as if he was already exhausted by Tim’s pleas, despite the fact that it’d only been a week. It almost made Martin laugh, but he managed to hold it in. “No no, can’t spare the time today. Perhaps next week, though,” he said simply. 

“Oh, come on, Jon. I’m sure everyone would love it if you’d join us. Right, Martin?” 

Martin felt like a deer in the headlights when Tim called on him, eyes widening as he glanced over between Tim and Jon. “Oh, uh, um, yes, of course! D-Don’t see why I wouldn’t!” he stuttered, managing a small smile. 

His heart dropped a little when Jon just pursed his lips and gave him a side eye, grabbing his lunchbox from the fridge and making his way back to the door. “Don’t be wasting too much time now, there is quite a lot of work to be done,” he said, letting the door close behind him loudly. 

“Just for that I’m taking my sweet time eating my salad,” Sasha grinned, making Tim almost choke from his startled laugh. 

Martin managed a smile at that, but still just stared after Jon, wondering if he’d gotten things all wrong. 

A flash of gaudy Hawaiian shirt caught Martin’s eye as he came into the pub a few hours later and he knew that it had to be Tim off in the corner booth in the back of the room. He took a deep breath and nodded to himself before heading over. This was a night to relax and get his mind off of work. And well… He and Tim were sort of friends, right? Or work acquaintances who could become friends? Maybe he could try and ask for some advice. Both about work and… Well, just advice for handling everything about the Jon situation. 

Not wanting to keep standing there, he quickly made his way over and sat down across from Tim with a sigh.

“Martin! Here, first one’s on me,” Tim grinned, pushing a pint across the table. 

Martin raised it with a smile, already taking a big sip of it. “I’ll get the next round?” 

Tim just waved a hand and laughed, raising his own pint and taking a sip. “That bad of a week?” he asked, setting the glass down on the table and leaning back in his seat.

“Kinda, just…” Martin sighed again and rested his elbows on the table, trying to mull things over in his head on what he wanted to tell Tim about. 

“I mean, I get that you’ve been having a hard time adjusting. None of us have really worked in an archive, either. Sash and I were both in research, but she’s got a little more experience in artefact storage. I mean, I’d imagine the library was a lot different,” Tim asked, just making Martin groan. 

He took another, even larger sip of his drink and frowned over at Tim. “Yeah, it was… Different. Not exactly qualified for all this, I suppose.”

Tim just nodded and ran a hand through his hair. “You and me both, but we’re figuring it out together. It’s alright, don’t stress too much.”

That made Martin smile a little, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Thanks… I guess there’s also something else that’s been making things maybe a little harder,” he said, swallowing hard. 

Tim actually seemed to straighten up a bit, his joking smile dropping away to reveal genuine concern. “Anything you want to talk about? I mean, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, nothing’s wrong, really, just…” he paused, mulling over his options. He could either tell Tim and maybe embarrass himself more in the future, or… Well, or he could get some genuine advice. He took another drink of beer and made the easy decision “Can I maybe ask you something personal?” he asked, setting his beer back on the table.

“Anything, yeah, we’re friends,” Tim said, bringing back his smile and gently knocking their glasses together. 

Martin smiled a little at that and nodded before taking a deep breath. “Well…” he paused, trying to think of how even was the best way to start this sort of discussion. 

It had to have shown on his face that he was struggling because Tim interrupted his thoughts with a quick, “Martin, go ahead. Promise it’s all alright.”

He blushed a little and let out a sigh, but still nodded. “I… Okay. I suppose I could… Well… Have you met your soulmate?” he asked finally, spitting out the first question he could think of. 

This time Tim was the one who sighed, huffing out a laugh in the process. He tipped his drink towards Martin and took a big sip from it. “Breaking out the big guns, huh? I’m going to assume this actually has something to do with work eventually, but to answer your question... Yes? I think?” he said, shaking his head. He set down his beer and held out his left arm, revealing the curling script that ran down his forearm.  _ Did you have plans after this? _ “Common phrases and drunken meetings lead to messes, Martin,” he said with somewhat of a sad smile.

At that, Martin almost felt bad for asking. He felt like he should’ve prefaced that his question was about soulmates, or given Tim the option to not say anything. He was starting to panic a little and Tim gently tapped on the table and gave him something of a reassuring smile.

“It’s alright. I wouldn’t have said anything if I wasn’t okay with talking, promise. But yeah, so, I think I found her, but I don’t know 100%. We’re trying to figure things out slowly,” he explained with a hopeful smile. 

Martin nodded and took a deep breath, trying to tamp down his anxiety for once. “So how did you two talk about you figured out you thought the other was the one?” he asked, subconsciously rubbing at where his mark was. 

Tim let out a small sigh and took another sip of his drink. “Well, we sort of… Sash and I have been taking things slow.”

“ _ Sasha? _ As in, our Sasha? From work?” Martin asked, raising his brow.

He chuckled a little and nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, the one and only Sasha James. Like I said, we don’t know for sure if we are, but I mean.. Don’t tell her, but I’m pretty sure. She’s not the first person who’s said my words, but it feels different with her. It feels right, you know?” he asked, maybe a little lovesick.

Martin just sighed. “I wish I knew.” 

Tim reached over and gave him a pat on the hand. “Have you met yours? Or at least met someone who said your words?”

“I think so, but I don’t  _ know _ . I think he said mine, but there was a lot going on and I didn’t realize he said it until after the fact and he didn’t say anything about it. And… Well, common phrases and stressed meetings lead to messes,” he said with a huffed laugh, pulling up his sleeve and showing Tim the messy print down his arm that read  _ I’m sorry, what? In general, or? _ He glanced down at it and almost wished that he could make sense of things. “It’s been almost a week and I don’t know if I should say anything? What if he’s not and it just makes things awkward?” Martin finished, rolling down his sleeve and rubbing over his face tiredly. 

“Wait, so is it someone you see often? Is it someone at work?” Tim asked, clearly trying, and failing, to hide his curiosity. 

Martin rubbed at his eyes and sighed, not bothering to pick his head up from his hands. “I think it’s Jon.”

“ _ What? Jon _ , as in  _ Jonathan Sims? Seriously? _ ” The disbelief was clear in his voice, making Martin just sigh even louder. 

“Yes,  _ that Jon _ , the one that already hates me. I think he might be, he said my words, but... Well, I  _ think _ he did, I didn’t realize until after, just... A little preoccupied with trying to get the dog out without getting fired, you know? But anyway, he hasn’t said anything and I don’t know if that means he’s waiting on me to say something or if I’m not? I mean, I feel like he would know if I was? I’m pretty sure the first thing I said to him was asking if he’d seen a dog, which isn’t exactly common!” he said, looking over at Tim a little desperately. “What am I to  _ do _ , Tim?” he asked, reaching for his pint and sounding absolutely pathetic. 

Tim just sighed and finished off his own drink before standing up and sliding into the booth beside Martin, immediately pulling him into a one armed hug. “You’re going to hate me, but I think you’ve just got to try to talk to him. Maybe try bringing him some tea at the start of the day? Before he starts on the statements? You might have a better opportunity to talk to him then. If he is, then you know. If not, it’s not that weird of a thing to ask? I mean, it happens. I’ve done it three times already, definitely not that weird, I promise,” he offered.

Martin just sighed again and down the rest of his drink, trying to quickly weigh his options in his head. On one hand, he could wait it out and possibly never know, but… Tim was right. He should just ask and get it over with, getting a “no” would be better than never knowing. “Yeah,” he said quietly, setting down his glass. “Yeah, alright, I can try that,” he added a little more confidently, giving Tim a small smile. “Thanks. I’ll get the next round, then maybe we can try to talk about something lighter?”

Tim’s face offered a soft smile and he let go, sliding back out of the booth and back onto his own side. “You get the drinks and then I’ll tell you all about the cat Sasha is looking to adopt,” he said with a wider grin now, making Martin smile a little. He nodded and stood up, trying to take a deep breath as he did his best to plan out what he would say to Jon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, there's the start of this. Hope yall like it so far! I'm going to try and consistently upload every weekend (with either one or two chapters), but it all depends on how real life (mine and my beta reader's) goes.
> 
> Once again, thanks to my main bitch @pepperpotsnpans for reading this and telling me when I can/can't write. I appreciate you.


	3. invisible string

Jon rubbed at his eyes behind his glasses and took a deep breath before he walked into the archives and towards his office. He gave a small nod at Tim, who just grinned back at him. “Alright, bossman? How was your weekend?” he called, making Jon sigh a little. 

“It was fine, Tim. Just fine,” he said quietly, giving a nod to Sasha as well as he walked past her desk. 

“No wild parties, then?” Tim asked. 

Jon just turned to Tim and pointedly rolled his eyes. “No, I must admit that I didn’t attend any  _ wild _ parties. While I had a few offers, I simply couldn’t bring myself to attend,” he deadpanned before turning back on his heel and stepping into his office, leaving Tim snorting behind him. He counted that as a small victory, not that he’d ever tell Tim.

He shut the door behind him and sighed, walking over to set his bag down on his desk. He went about the motions of taking out his laptop and plugging in its charger before carefully taking off his blazer. He pulled at the sleeves of his button-down, making sure they were securely buttoned at the wrist out of habit.

Staring down at the boxes of unsorted statements beside his desk, Jon sighed deeply and rubbed a hand over his face. If only he had been given a job he was  _ qualified _ for rather than this mess. If he was honest, he would’ve much preferred to stay in research, but how was he supposed to turn down such a promotion? Especially when Elias seemed so insistent on him being the right fit for the job, whatever that meant. He almost wished Sasha had gotten the job since he knew she was more qualified. Still, there was nothing he could do about it now other than push forward.

Jon grabbed his lunch box and stepped out of his office, giving Sasha a small wave as he passed by her desk again. He was almost praying Martin wasn’t in yet as he made his way to the breakroom, the only thing that would make the morning worse would be dreadful small talk. 

Pushing open the door, he had to stop himself from doing a full body sigh when Martin was there, bustling around the room and taking out various mugs and teas. 

“Oh!” Martin said in surprise, spinning around to give Jon a nervous smile. 

Jon suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and kept on his mission to put his lunch in the fridge and leave. 

“Good morning, I was just about to come in to see you. I’m making tea,” he said, nodding down at the mugs on the counter as if it wasn’t already obvious. 

Jon forced a polite smile, although it might’ve looked more like a grimace, and nodded. “Yes, thank you. You can just bring it to my office when you’ve made it. I.. I appreciate it,” he said, trying to be at least a little nicer. He wasn’t aiming for another scolding from Sasha, anyway. He set his lunch on the shelf in the fridge and closed the door, turning on his heel and starting to walk back towards the door. 

“Wait!” Martin called, making Jon have to force himself to hold back yet another sigh. God, it was too early for this, really. “I mean, just… Can I ask you something? I mean, I guess… I had a question for you, not that you really have to answer or anything, but I… Well, I would  _ like _ an answer, but you don’t really have t-”

“Martin, please get to the  _ point _ . Do you need more help with something? I’m sure Sasha or Tim would be more than willing to provide it. I am  _ very _ busy with the statements,” he said with a sigh, rubbing at his eyes under his glasses, already too tired for the day. 

That seemed to snap the other out of his ramblings as he gave a nervous smile and shook his head. “Nono, it’s… It’s not work-related, don’t worry. I’ve been fine with doing the statement follow-ups and I’m… I’m working on fixing my write up of the um followup to the Woodward statement with the…  _ critiques _ you’ve given me.”

Jon tried not to wince at the emphasis on the word critiques. He knew he’d been too harsh as soon as the words came out of his mouth. He really just wanted to try and be a stern boss, just to prove he knew what he was doing. He swallowed thickly, trying to make a mental note to perhaps dial it back just a little bit. 

“Anyway, I just wanted to ask a more… personal question, I guess?”

That got his attention. He furrowed his brow and frowned, looking up at Martin. “I… Don’t typically make a habit of discussing my personal life at work, Martin,” he said, tugging at his sleeves again. “Especially as I am your boss.”

“No, I totally understand. I just… Well, it’s not for some kind of gossip, don’t worry. And I wouldn’t be telling anyone else in the office. I just suppose… Well it also involves me?” he hurried through an explanation, but it did nothing to reassure Jon. “I mean, you don’t really  _ have _ to answer, especially if you’re uncomfortable. I don’t… I’d get it,” Martin finished with a small smile, wringing his hands together. 

Jon looked up at Martin, saw how hopeful he looked, and finally let out a deep sigh. “I… I suppose you could ask. I don’t guarantee I’ll answer, though.”

Martin broke out into a smile and nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah, of course! That’s fine! Like I said, I would… I’d like an answer, but I understand if you’re uncomfortable or something.” He let out a breath before nodding again, that nervous smile still on his face. 

“Go on, then,” he pushed, just wanting to hurry this along so he could go back to his office for the day, his mind running over all the work he had to get done. 

“Right, right. Um, well, I guess… Sorry, um, it has to do with… Words? Um, I think… Well, I think when we met that I might’ve heard mine? But I don’t know, you know? Don’t think about ‘em all the time, that would drive me mad. Plus that day was so stressful, starting the new job and everything, I had so much on my mind and everything. So yeah, they sort of slipped my mind and then when I was thinking about it after the fact I thought I remembered you saying them? But I don’t know for sure if I heard them or anything, but… Yeah. I… I was wondering if you knew? I know mine are kind of common, so it would be fine if you weren’t, but I wanted to be sure and all. You know, just in case. Didn’t want you thinking I was ignoring you, either, if you were, you know?” he rambled, trailing off with a small laugh and a nervous smile.

Jon furrowed his brow and glanced up at Martin. He could see the hope in his eyes and he almost felt bad for what he said after the pause drew out between them. “I really can’t make out what exactly you’re asking here, Martin. Words? What words, exactly? And why would I think you were ignoring me?” 

Martin seemed to deflate at that, nodding a little as he seemed to gather himself for a second attempt. “Right, um. Right. Sorry, guess the words got a bit jumbled there. My words, that is. What I was saying, rather. Um. Right, sorry. Anyway, let me be more clear, I guess? I was asking about-”

Just as it seemed like Martin was about to spit out whatever he was trying to as the breakroom door burst open, making the two of them jump. “Jon, Martin, good morning you two,” Elias greeted them both, walking in casually and nodding to them both, a small smile on his lips. 

Jon stood up a little taller and gave a slight nod of his head. “Elias, good morning. What are you doing down here? Is there something I can help you with?” 

Elias just smiled again, but in a way that made Jon’s stomach turn slightly. He couldn’t place why, though, so he did his best to shrug it off. “Oh, you know. I came down for a bit of tea. It seems that we’re all out of my preferred blend upstairs and I knew you’d have more down here. Martin, could you be so kind as to make me a cup with the rest? Two sugars, please,” he said, taking out the tin of looseleaf that sat at the back of the tea shelf. 

“Oh, um, yes, of course. I can bring it upstairs to you?” Martin asked a little nervously. 

“Actually, I believe I may be down here for a bit longer. Jon, I was wondering if you could assist me. I’m in need of some help with retrieving a... valuable statement. I remember it coming in not too long ago. Perhaps just a year. I was thinking we could do a follow up on it to be sure, as well as have it archived. I know the filing was left in such a mess, though, so I can’t even begin to think where they’ll be stored, hence why I’d like your help.”

“Hm, right. Well, if you give me the statement number I’m sure I can have Tim or Sasha look through the boxes for them?” Jon tried, tugging at his sleeves again lightly. 

“Oh no, I wouldn’t want to trouble them. I’m sure you and I should be able to find it if we start looking now.”

Jon just nodded and ran a hand through his hair. “Of course,” he said to Elias and then glanced back over at Martin. The other seemed… upset, but Jon really didn’t have time to deal with that. “Martin, we can talk more if I happen to have a free moment,” he tried before turning on his heel and heading towards the door. 

“Perfect. Martin, you could bring both of our teas to Jon’s office, that would be lovely. Thank you,” he said, giving Martin that smile that made Jon uneasy. 

“Do you have the number of the statement you’re looking for?” Jon asked, walking out of the breakroom as Elias held the door for him.

“Yes, I do. The one I’m particularly interested in is Statement 0150409.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for anxious Martin, I promise he'll be okay soon enough.


	4. gave me no compasses

Martin closed his eyes tightly, hugging his knees to his chest as he sat with his back against the door. He did his best to ignore the constant scratching coming from behind him, but nothing could drown it out. The cheap old radio only produced static no matter what angle he pointed the old antenna, and the static just made him think more of the worms that were trying to get in from every crack and crevice. He almost wished that his mum was still living with him, if only for the company.

If he was honest, of all the scenarios his anxious mind had thought up about how he could die, this wasn’t one. Who would’ve guessed he’d be trapped in his flat, alone and surrounded by worms? It felt like a horror movie, really. He couldn’t even remember how many days it’d been. A week? Longer, even? The days and nights had started to blur together for him, there was no way of knowing how much longer he’d be trapped there or if anyone would come looking for him.

He let out a sigh and opened his eyes, glancing over at the windows across the room to make sure the barriers were still keeping out the worms. Towels and blankets were pushed into every possible crack around the windows and doors. Anything for some semblance of safety. 

If only someone would look for him. He stopped himself from crying over that again, there really was no point in it now. It wouldn’t help, just like it hadn’t helped the first dozen times he started tearing up. Crying would just get him to dwell again. He couldn’t afford to be hopeless, not with that thing knocking outside. He needed to keep himself together. 

Martin took a deep breath and ran his hand over his face. He knew he should probably get up and eat something, but he couldn’t bring himself to stand up just yet. 

Against his better judgment, he pushed up his sleeve and stared down at the words written down his arm. Tracing a finger along the messy scrawl he’d come so familiar with, he sighed and smiled sadly. “I wish I knew who you were. I wish I could find you. Or, well, that you could find me,” he added with a small laugh, dropping his head back and letting it thud gently against the door. 

He rolled his eyes as the knocking from the other side got louder, stopping himself from shuddering. It had gotten to the point where he did his best to ignore it anymore. Just a part of his life now, he supposed. 

“I should’ve taken Tim’s advice,” he said aloud to no one, ignoring the knocking that continued at the sound of his voice. “Should’ve asked Jon sooner or… Well, I should’ve been more clear when I did ask… God, I must’ve sounded like such an idiot,” he said, letting out a groan. “He’s just so… Jon. I shouldn’t get so nervous around him, but I just do. Not to mention he hates me already. Not that it’s my  _ fault _ , but… I just wish he was maybe a little more patient or something,” he said, putting his head in his hands. 

The knocking stopped for a moment, but Martin could still hear the worms squirming around the door. He knew better than to hope. 

“I thought he would’ve been the one to say something first if we were… I mean, he would have the weirder phrase, right? I… I asked him if he’d seen a dog? That’s hardly common. Well, unless he didn’t remember it? I guess not everyone really cares about this sort of thing? Does he? What if he doesn’t? Oh God, what if I’m soulmates with someone who doesn’t believe in this sort of thing.” Martin could feel his heart rate rising as the anxiety started to kick in. He finally pushed himself up from his spot on the floor, taking a shuddering breath. 

He started pacing the room, running his hands through his hair as he walked from one end of the kitchen to the other. The knocking picked up again, this time louder than before. “What if he doesn’t want me? What if he doesn’t want any of this? God, I’m such a fucking idiot, I put so much  _ hope  _ into this thing and now that it might be here I… What if mum was right?” he asked, trying to stop the tears from coming to his eyes, all the while the knocking just kept getting louder and louder. 

“No. No. Not everyone is like that… Can’t be. I can’t… I can’t let myself think like that. I just can’t,” he said more firmly, wiping at his face. He walked back towards the table, grabbing another tin of peaches.

The knocking was so loud that he could barely ignore it.

“Maybe he’s just shy? Or just doesn’t think about the words that much? Yeah, maybe… I mean, I didn’t realize at first, so maybe he didn’t either. Bad memory or something. That… That could be it. Or… Or maybe he doesn’t know how to broach the subject since he’s my boss?” he tried, opening the tin and setting the lid down on the counter. “It… It has to be a misunderstanding,” he said more firmly, taking a deep breath as the knocking sounded more like someone slamming a fist against the door. 

“I will try to talk to him again if- when I get out of here,” he added, grabbing a fork from the drawer.

Just as he stabbed a peach and was about to bring it to his grimacing face, a shockingly loud bang against the door made him drop the fork to the floor, the peach landing with a splat. 

Martin took a deep breath and did his best not to slam the tin down on the table. “Will you  _ SHUT UP?  _ Haven’t you done enough? Can’t you just quiet down for  _ five minutes _ ?” he yelled.

The knocking stopped abruptly, leaving Martin breathless with his bottom lip quivering just slightly. 

With only the sound of his own breathing filling the flat, he nodded slightly and reached down to pick up the fork and drop it in the sink. 

Settling down in his chair with a clean fork, he let the silence engulf him as he started eating. “Thank you,” he said softly, letting himself enjoy the peace. 

Martin managed to force himself to finish the peaches, all the while acutely aware of the silence. After days of that constant knocking, the quiet was almost suffocating. He didn’t know what to do. At first he could still hear the worms squirming in front of his door, so he knew she was still there… Just standing and waiting for him to come out. He did another lap around the flat, double checking his barriers around the windows and the door, but everything seemed to be holding. He didn’t know what game she was playing at, but he didn’t want to open the door to find out. 

Instead, he sat back down on the couch and tried to read again. With the newfound silence in the flat, though, his eyes slowly started to slip shut every few words. He hadn’t realized just how much the noise had been getting to him until it was gone. He didn’t know how long it would last, but he wanted to take advantage of it while he could. Dropping the book on the table, he pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and got comfortable, his eyes slipping shut within minutes. 

All the questions that had been swirling around in his head only seemed to permeate into his dreams. He tossed and turned all night, moving from one nightmare to the next. At first he’d thought he’d woken up to his door broken down, worms filling the room with  _ her _ at the center. Trapped with nowhere to run, Martin tried fighting his way out, but there was nothing to do. Just as she was about to get him, the scene changed. He could hear Jon coming towards his flat. Could hear his voice through the door and his cry of  _ Dear God _ as he caught sight of Prentiss. Martin tried yelling at him to run, but Jon couldn’t hear him through the door. Instead, he just watched as Prentiss gained on Jon. 

The rest of the night went in a similar fashion and he had no idea just how long he’d been sleeping when he finally sat straight up in a cold sweat. It took Martin a few moments to steady his breathing, but once he did he was able to look around and regain his bearings. Took him a minute to realize there were still no worms inside and Jon was nowhere to be seen, just him all alone and trapped in his flat. 

Martin sighed and slowly let the tension leak from his shoulders. Rubbing at his eyes, he glanced over at the door. For the first time in days, the flat was silent when he woke up. No banging, no knocking, no sound of dozens of worms squirming just outside the door. Just beautiful silence. It put him on edge. 

Standing up and tiptoeing his way over to the door, Martin slowly removed the barrier he’d put up in the letterbox. He worked as quietly as he could, not wanting to make a noise if she was still just waiting outside for him. Mustering all the courage he could, he flicked open the letterbox and there, just outside was… Nothing. A few worms remained, writhing on the concrete, but other than that there was nothing. No terrifying woman covered in worms, no piles of the things… Just a few harmless ones left behind. 

He quickly backed away and started looking around the flat, checking the windows one more time. Still, there was nothing. It seemed that… perhaps she’d just left. Martin tried not to get his hopes up, but he couldn’t let this chance go. He needed to take this opportunity and run with it. 

Taking a deep breath, Martin walked back over to the door and gripped the handle tightly. “Right to the institute, I can make it there. I… Jon will know what to do or… I can at least tell him what happened,” he said quietly to himself, trying to build up his courage. “You can do this, Martin.”

Quietly counting to three, he pulled open the door and started running. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out once again to my beta reader, love that bitch for editing my shit at 11pm. Hopefully will have another chapter or two up next weekend. Hope yall are liking it so far <3


	5. tying me to you

Jon sighed as he looked through the papers again. “If Ms. Kelly’s recollections are correct, regarding how Robert described his last skydive, Harriet Fairchild the instructor and an old man named Simon. It might just be a coincidence, but I recall the name ‘Simon Fairchild’ was one of the ones used by-” he cut off, gasping as Martin ran through the door, followed by what looked like writhing silvery worms. “My god! Martin? What the hell is this? What are these things?” he yelled, slamming the button on the tape recorder and standing up from his desk. 

Martin seemed stressed, more than normal, as he stomped on the worms in the room, gasping like he sprinted all the way there. Jon ran over and stomped on some of the worms, as well, killing as many as he could. It only took a few minutes, but once all of them were dead Martin collapsed in a chair, attempting to steady his breathing. 

Jon watched as he sat there, gasping for breath until finally the other let out a laugh. It sounded pained, almost manic. “What happened?” he asked, furrowing his brow. 

Martin just shook his head and rubbed at his face with both hands. “I need to make a statement,” he said after a few moments. 

He frowned and huffed a little. “Martin, come on, this isn’t really… What are these things? Where have you been?”

His questions were ignored, though, as Martin looked up at him, more serious than Jon had ever seen him. “Jon, I  _ need _ to make a statement.”

Jon just signed again and walked around his desk. “Fine,” he said, changing the tape in the recorder. “Just tell me when.”

Martin seemed to relax, letting the tension leave his shoulders as he nodded. “Thank you. I… Go ahead,” he said, making Jon press record. 

\-----

“Thank you again,” Martin said with a small smile as he grabbed the blanket from Jon’s hands, doing his best to make the cot a little more comfortable. 

“Don’t worry about it. Clearly something is wrong out there, so I’d rather have you safe,” he said, waving a hand slightly and letting out a small sigh. 

Jon was tired, moreso than normal. He didn’t know what to think, but he needed time to try and parse through everything. Dismissing statements from people he had no connection with was easy, but this… It seemed different. He saw the worms. He saw the terror on Martin’s face as he described what happened. This was harder to dismiss as just another story. 

“Still, you didn’t have to do this. I… I really appreciate it, Jon,” he said again. 

Jon just waved him off and did his best to return the weak smile, pushing his glasses up further on the bridge of his nose. “You can stay here until we figure out what is going on,” he said simply, turning around so he could leave the room and finally head home for the night. 

He had just taken his first step towards the door when Martin called a quick “Wait!”

Jon did his best to not sigh as he turned around and tiredly raised an eyebrow. “Yes? Did you need something else?” he asked, trying not to be so short. 

Martin rubbed the back of his neck, his face screwed up in a confused, but… perhaps determined expression. “I… Suppose I wanted to ask you something? I tried asking a couple of weeks ago, but… Well, Elias interrupted and then I got sent off to follow up on that statement and then well all this happened, so I just… I was wondering if I could ask now?”

He tried to think back to two weeks ago, remembering all of Martin’s rambling and stumbling over his words. He hoped that this time Martin would just spit it out, rather than leaving him to have to parse through his rambling. 

“Right, I remember. I suppose there’s no harm in asking, but… I still don’t promise that I’ll answer whatever… personal question you have to ask,” Jon said slowly.

Martin nodded quickly, that hopeful smile returning to his lips. “Of course, yeah, you don’t have to answer. Just… Well, I think I said it had to do with me, so that’s the only reason I was asking. Otherwise, I wouldn’t,” he explained quickly.

Jon just nodded tiredly and waved a hand, gesturing for Martin to continue. 

The other took a deep breath, still smiling, but a little more nervously this time. It made Jon feel that bundle of nerves pool in the pit of his stomach. What question would make Martin nervous to ask? And it involved the both of them? He tried running through all the different possibilities in his head. 

“So, um, I guess the question had to do with your… words,” he said, pausing and looking back at Jon. 

The face Martin made told Jon that his own expression was clearly still confused. What words was Martin talking about? 

“You know, the ones you first said,” Martin pushed further, but all Jon could do was furrow his brow. He could see Martin starting to get frustrated and he almost felt a little bad about it, but he really wasn’t following the train of thought there. Martin just sighed loudly, thinking for a moment. “The ones on your-” he started, but was cut off by a shrill ring that made them both jump. 

Jon glanced around the room for a moment, only to realize the noise was coming from his pocket as his mobile rang. He frowned and quickly fumbled to get it out and answer it. 

“Hello?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t now getting phone calls from Jane Prentiss. 

“ _ Finally _ . You weren’t answering your texts and Tim told me that Martin’s back? God, I take  _ one day off  _ and  _ this _ happens. Please tell me he’s alright!” Sasha said, talking about a mile a minute.

Jon almost sighed in relief hearing her voice, nodding his head despite knowing she couldn’t see him. “Yes Sasha, Martin is… Fine,” he said, looking over at the other as he said so. “Shaken up by what happened, but physically alright.”

He could hear Sasha’s sigh of relief on the other end. “Good, that’s good. God, I can’t believe we didn’t realize. I’m glad he’s alright. Does he need somewhere to stay? I mean, Tim’s flat has an extra bedroom?” 

Jon shook his head, trying not to read too much into the implication of Sasha just offering up Tim’s spare bedroom. “He’s staying in the Archives. We’re sure it’s safe here and there’s no way we’d not notice if he went missing again,” he said, trying to look anywhere but at Martin. It felt weird talking about him while he was there in the room, but he knew Sasha would throw a fit if he didn’t give her the details she needed. 

Jon could visualize Sasha pursing her lips in thought as the line went quiet for a few moments. “I suppose that’ll do,” she finally said, breaking the silence.

“I’m with him now, if you’d like to speak with him?” he offered, looking over at Martin again. 

“No, it’s fine. Just tell him that I’m glad to have him back and safe now and that I’ll take down the worm woman myself if I have to.”

Jon snorted a little, but nodded anyway. “Yes, of course you will. I’m sure even Jane Prentiss would shake in the presence of your wrath,” he said, smirking a little at his phone.

“You’re damn right she would. If it works on you and Tim, it’ll absolutely work on some horror being,” she said and he could hear the laughter in her voice. 

Jon managed to hold back his laugh, but that only led to him letting out an unexpected yawn. 

“Sounds like you’ve been overworking yourself already,” she said, causing him to wrinkle his nose. 

“A completely normal amount, I assure you. Anyway, is that all you needed?” 

Sasha sighed and he could picture her shaking her head at him. “Yeah, that’s all. Just tell Martin to rest easy tonight, yeah? And that I’m getting him a big lunch tomorrow, no excuses.”

“Of course, I will be sure to tell him,” he said, glancing over at Martin who’d been watching him the whole time. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Sasha.”

“Yeah, see you, Jon. You make sure you get some rest, too,” she said, adding in the last bit just before he hung up the phone.

Jon sighed and tucked his phone back into his pocket. It was like that small reminder made him realize just how exhausted he really was. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been at least a little bit worried about what had taken Martin out of the office for so long and then to find out the reason… Well, it put him on edge and only seemed to make the exhaustion weigh heavier on his shoulders. 

He almost jumped when he heard Martin clear his throat, bringing him out of his thoughts. Stifling a yawn, he gave the other a small smile and straightened up a little. 

“That was Sasha. I’m sure Tim told her whatever he heard of what happened. She said she’s glad you’re back and that she’ll do everything she can to make sure Jane Prentiss is… taken care of. Also, she’s buying you lunch tomorrow and won’t take any excuses.”

“Oh, yeah, Tim probably told her. I’ll have to thank her tomorrow,” Martin said, smiling a little.

Jon hummed in agreement and pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “She also said to make sure we both get some rest. I think I may call in early today to actually follow her advice,” he said, shaking his head a little and yawning once again. “Oh, but, what was it that you were trying to ask me?” 

Martin yawned as well, his jaw cracking slightly as he did so, and shook his head. His face was… sad? Maybe? But it seemed like he was trying to hide it. “It’s fine… Just… Go home, Jon. It’s not immediately important and we both need some rest,” he said, sitting down on the cot they’d set up. 

“Are you sure?” He didn’t want to press, but he did feel like Martin had made quite a big deal out of asking him only to have it waved away. 

“Yeah, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” he said, waving a hand. “We can talk about it another day.”

Jon could see the conflicting emotions on Martin’s face, but he wasn’t about to press any further. He really was exhausted and going home and just… going to bed sounded like the best thing he’d done in ages. “Next time I’m free you can ask again?” he offered. 

Martin smiled, but Jon could see it didn’t completely reach his eyes. “Yeah, I’ll try to make sure my question makes sense this time,” he said, letting out a small laugh.

Jon just nodded and quirked up his lips. “And I’ll do my best to provide an answer,” he said, slowly heading to the door. He stopped just in the doorway and ran a hand through his hair, thinking for a moment before turning around one more time. “Just… Let me know if you need anything, Martin,” he added genuinely. 

The smile Martin gave him this time was a bit warmer, but he still had that put out look on his face that made Jon wonder what exactly Martin had to ask him that he couldn’t understand. “Thanks, Jon. Get some rest, yeah?”

Jon nodded and smiled back a little. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something more, but stopped and just shook his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said instead, closing the door behind him and immediately going to his office to pack up his things. 

The fact that he didn’t know what Martin wanted to ask him was going to sit in his mind all night, he was sure of it, but he also didn’t have the energy to sit there and wait for the other to spit it out. He did his best to push it to the back of his mind, though, as he packed up his laptop and made his way out of the building for the night. Tomorrow was another day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey yall, just one chapter this week because life got in the way and I couldn't find the spoons to write two. Hope yall like it tho! We'll get some action soon as we near the season 2 content, I promise. Thanks again for reading and extra thanks to my beta reader, don't know what I'd do without her.


	6. gave me no signs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for no content last week, life sure was something else. But here are two chapters this week to make up for it. Also perhaps Martin will FINALLY get to talk to Jon, as a treat

“A ghost? Really?” Martin said, almost laughing at just how ridiculous that sounded, especially coming from Jon.

Jon just sighed tiredly and rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Martin,” he said, clicking off on the tape recorder. “With the shit going on around lately… I don’t know, it seemed… plausible.”   
  


Martin snorted and shook his head, walking away from the door and sitting down on the floor. “I guess, but… Really?”

“Can we drop it? Please?” he grumbled. In another situation Martin might’ve called it cute.

He smiled and shook his head, staring down at his hands. “It’s honestly a little reassuring to hear that you believe in all this, you know. Makes me feel… I don’t know, validated in it all?” 

Jon looked up and gave him the closest thing to a smile that Martin’s ever seen him do. “You’re welcome, I guess. I don’t like talking about it.”

“Why not?” Martin pressed, feeling brave for once. 

The other’s eyes narrowed slightly, but not at him, it was like Jon was thinking about some old memory. “It’s complicated,” he said finally. That hint of a smile was now long gone and Martin knew that meant that conversation wasn’t going to be going any further. He almost felt bad, but it wasn’t like he could’ve known that was a touchy subject for Jon.

Martin let out a sigh and looked back down at his hands. The room was silent, other than the background noise of worms wiggling outside the door. There was no way of knowing when they’d be able to get out; who knew how long it would take Sasha to get help. Martin worried his bottom lip, glancing up at Jon a few times. If they were going to be stuck here, then there was no harm in asking him about something more serious, then. At least now there was no way they’d get interrupted? He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair.

“Jon?” he asked quietly, causing the other to look back up at him. For once he didn’t look like it was a chore to look at him, which filled Martin with a bit of hope. “I… I mean, we’re stuck here, so can I… Would you mind if I asked you something?”

Jon just shrugged a little. “You might as well. It doesn’t look like there is any other way to pass the time and god knows how long we’ll be stuck here.”

“Sasha got out, we… It could only be a couple of hours?” he said optimistically.

The other just waved his hand and shook his head. “That’s the hope. What’s your question, then?”

Martin nodded, glad Jon was actually trying to get him to the point. It gave him a bit of hope that this time he’d finally get to ask. To get an answer to the question that had been gnawing at him for months. “Right, yeah. Um, it has to do with your words. These words,” he said, gesturing to his own forearm.

Jon furrowed his brow at that, his own hand immediately moving to check at his buttoned cuffs. If Martin had to guess, it was an unconscious movement, too. A practiced one, though. It made the knot in his stomach grow a little. “What about them? I hardly think this is a… work appropriate question,” he said slowly, almost defensive. 

Despite his nerves, Martin pushed forward. He wasn’t going to get interrupted this time, he refused to be. “I wouldn’t ask under normal circumstances. I know it’s not exactly proper coworker conversation,” he said quickly, trying to calm Jon’s nerves and maybe some of his own. “I just… I think I might’ve heard mine?” 

For how brilliant Martin knew Jon was, he didn’t seem to be following if the crease between his brows was anything to go by. “Okay…” he said slowly. “Congratulations?” he offered up a moment later, like he was unsure of what else to say. 

Martin almost laughed, but he shook his head. “Right, thanks, but not where I was going with that. I mean… Well… Here’s the thing, I think I heard them a few months ago… When I first got transferred into the Archives,” he said trying to choose his words carefully. He could already tell this was a… difficult topic for Jon, so he didn’t want to say anything too fast. 

The silence between them was filled with the wriggling noises of the worms just outside the door and it made Martin shiver. It sounded like they were getting closer. “I’m not sure what you want me to say here,” Jon said, finally breaking that silence. 

Martin sighed and nodded. “Right, yeah, sorry. Just… I guess I wanted to know first if you’ve heard yours?”

Jon’s face contorted from confusion to something Martin couldn’t quite place, but he could tell he was already going to hate Jon’s answer. “Martin, I’m going to… trust that you have a good reason for asking this. I’m not exactly the type who enjoys discussing things of this nature. It’s something that I don’t exactly find… important,” he said slowly.

Martin tried not to let any emotion show on his face as Jon spoke. He was determined to push on. “What do you mean by that? I mean… It’s sort of just a yes or no question.”

The sigh that Jon let out told him all he needed to know. “The short answer is I don’t know.”

Martin opened his mouth to respond, but stopped as the loud blaring cut them off. They both looked around, seeing the flashing lights as the fire alarm system began screaming. Martin almost laughed at the sliver of hope it gave him that they’d get out, but he was too preoccupied with the elephant in the room. “You don’t know?” he asked, raising his voice over the beeping. 

Jon rolled his eyes, which felt like pouring salt in the wound. “I’ve never put much stock into them. Soulmates predetermined at birth? It just has always seemed a little… Far-fetched.” His voice tapered off towards the end, making Martin have to strain to hear him over the growing noise in the little room. 

Martin felt like he might throw up. He didn’t know how much of it was showing on his face, but even the growing noises of worms couldn’t distract him. “Far-fetched? Really? Jon, we are literally under attack by  _ worms _ and you’re saying that the idea of  _ soulmates _ is  _ far-fetched _ .  _ Really? _ ”

At least he had the dignity to look a little embarrassed by that, pushing up his glasses and huffing a little. “They’re completely different categories of unbelievable events, Martin. I mean, there are plenty of people who have been proven to be incompatible with their ‘soulmates’. Some people don’t even meet theirs and they turn out just fine.”

Martin let his head fall back against the door with a thunk and did his best to regain his composure. With the fire alarm along with the sounds of the worms it was all getting to be a bit much. “Yeah, there are exceptions, but that doesn’t change the fact that the majority of people  _ are _ compatible with their soulmate.”

Jon sighed and Martin watched out of the corner of his eyes as the other shrugged. “Sure. I never said they couldn’t. It just seems ridiculous to let something like  _ fate _ decide who you end up with.”

The inner romantic in Martin couldn’t be crushed anymore, he was sure of it. 

“What was the point of asking this in the first place, Martin?”

Martin almost laughed as he shook his head, shifting so he could look back up at Jon. “Because I’m pretty sure I heard mine on my first day of work here. And…” he paused, swallowing hard. Was he really just going to say it? Jon could probably figure it out from there, there was no reason he had to say more. But also… It’d taken him so long to finally be able to have this conversation with him, he really should just get it over with. He let out a sigh and shrugged his shoulders. Here went nothing. “And I’m pretty sure you said them.” 

That got Jon’s mouth immediately clamped shut, his brow furrowed further than Martin had ever seen it. The worm noises got louder and Martin figured there were probably hundreds just outside the door. The wait for Jon to say something was eerie as he listened to the constant noise around them. It was starting to make him regret finally saying something.

“Martin, I- Are you sure?” Jon finally asked. Martin could tell he was struggling to put together the pieces and with everything going on he could see Jon’s brain was going into overdrive. 

“About as sure as I can be without knowing what yours say,” he said, a little dejectedly. Of all the scenarios he’d dreamt up of telling his soulmate that they’d said his words, he sure didn’t expect it to go like this. 

Jon just nodded and Martin tried not to look too dejected. He could see Jon practically clutching his arm to his chest like he was hiding his words from him, or maybe from himself. “I don’t know what they say,” he said after a moment. 

Martin immediately felt his jaw drop as he stated incredulously back at Jon. “What do you mean that you  _ don’t know _ ? How can you not know?” 

“I just don’t remember! I’ve never cared about them, so I don’t think about them,” he was starting to sound defensive, but Martin still couldn’t believe that things were going like this.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed not to be too frustrated. “Well can you check now?” he asked, voice strained a little. 

Jon opened his mouth to say something in response, but then closed it. That’s when they heard the first bang that startled them both. The two of them quickly turned to the wall, Martin quickly standing up to look out the small window. 

“Oh,  _ come on _ ,” he said quietly, groaning under his breath. “It’s the bloody  _ worms _ , they’re-” he started as another bang shook the room. “They’re trying to  _ get in _ .” Martin braced himself up against the wall and the banging started getting more consistent, like the worms were coordinating together now. 

Jon still looked shocked, but he did his best to stand up and not flinch every time another bang shook the room. “Brace the wall, they’re trying to get in.”

Martin held back a snarky remark and continued doing just that as Jon clicked the tape recorder on again. 

“I thought that wall was meant to be solid?!”


	7. cutting me open

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up for some maybe a little graphic worm removal, this takes place in the hospital right after last chapter

Jon swallowed hard as the nurse pulled out another silver worm from his arm. 

“You’re doing great. Just a couple more and I should be done,” she said with an attempt at reassurance as she dug around in his arm looking for another parasite. 

“The sooner you’re done, the better,” he managed to get out around gritted teeth, squeezing his eyes shut tightly and trying to focus on anything else. He did his best to disconnect himself to block it all out. 

The nurse just hummed and patted his worm-free shoulder gently as she got to work on his forearm. “You’re lucky, you know,” she said after a few moments, breaking the silence. 

Jon almost snorted at that, opening his eyes just a crack to stare up at her. “How could I possibly be lucky? You’ve pulled  _ dozens _ of worms out of me.” He tried not to be  _ too _ rude, but his nerves were shot and the pain was nearly unbearable. 

The nurse had the decency to look at least a little apologetic at her phrasing, staring intently down at his arm instead of making eye contact. “Well, I just mean you’re lucky that they managed to miss your words.”

After the mess that it was getting out of the Institute and then finding Gertrude’s body, he’d almost forgotten about his conversation with Martin, but it all came rushing back to him as he stared down at the perfect script on his arm. She was right; it was completely untouched by the worms. It was almost ironic, really. 

“Have you met your other half, then?” she asked, glancing up at him and clearly trying to make small talk as she pulled yet another worm from his arm. 

Jon frowned and glanced down at the words. He took a moment to war with himself on if he would read them now or wait until he was alone, but his need to know won out.  _ Hey sorry; you haven’t seen a dog, have you? _ He swallowed hard, his mind already starting to try and think back to that first day he’d met Martin. So much had happened since then, it almost felt like years ago. 

The nurse gave a quiet cough, which broke him through his thoughts, wincing again as she dug around in his arm. He could tell she was still waiting on him to answer and he realized that of all the times to figure out if his coworker actually was his soulmate, that moment was not the most ideal. Jon just sighed and lifted his free hand to rub at his eyes for a moment. “I don’t know,” he said quietly.

Somehow the nurse looked over at him with even more pity in her eyes than before. “Oh, hon, you don’t know? Well… I hope you find them soon. At least this is rather unique, you know?”

He just nodded numbly and did his best to think of anything but his words. It wasn’t too hard, there was plenty to fill his mind with. There were still worms squirming around inside him. Prentiss was possibly dead, possibly still out there. Gertrude was found dead in the institute itself and perhaps one of his coworkers was the murderer. Still, even then his thoughts kept slowly circling back around to his words. Now that he knew them he couldn’t get them out of his head. Despite the topic of it, Jon was glad to finally have a distraction.

He let his thoughts carry him away, only snapping out of it when the nurse pulled a worm out of his hand with a bit of a forceful yank. He winced and just barely stopped himself from pulling his hand back. 

“I’m sorry, dear. That one was really stuck in there,” the nurse said sympathetically, gently patting his hand. “On the plus side, though, I believe that was the last of them,” she added, finally letting go of him and putting down her forceps. 

Jon just nodded, too tired and out of it to want to put in the energy to form a response. He did his best to quiet his fidgeting while she cleaned out every little hole and then meticulously wrapped his arm in thick gauze. He watched as the words that were now at the front of his mind were wrapped up and once again hidden from view. 

“All done. You’ll have to stay in quarantine for a while to be sure that you don’t have anymore and to be sure you don’t develop any kind of infection, alright? If you have any problems please hit the call button, especially if you feel any… wiggling. We’ll need to take care of any remaining worms as soon as you notice them.” 

Jon just nodded and sighed, sitting back on the bed and staring up at the ceiling as the nurse left the room. 

He stayed like that for a while, just… Thinking. It had been a long time since he properly gave his words any thought. The last time he’d really properly thought about it had been while he was with Georgie, which was practically ages ago. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he’d never found the words important. He didn’t. His grandmother had lived a long and happy life without ever even meeting her soulmate, so why would he need to be so hung up on wondering if every single person who walked into his life was meant to be “The One”? He’d told Georgie as much when they were dating, but curiosity still got the best of them one night when they laid in bed together and finally compared words, only to reveal that fate found them incompatible. It hadn’t made a difference to him, but he could tell Georgie had been a little disappointed that night. His hand gently rubbed over his arm where the words were as he thought. 

The nurse was right, he was lucky. Perhaps only partially because the worms had missed them, but also because his words were unique. It made everything so much easier, but also that much harder. Now that he was alone, he didn’t have any excuse to not think about what Martin had said. 

He finally let himself think back to his first day at the institute, back before he really realized what he was really getting himself into. He remembered Rosie bringing him down to see his office and trying to record his first statement. The day he realized the real ones wouldn’t work digitally. And then… And then Martin let that damn dog into the Archives.  _ Hey sorry; you haven’t seen a dog, have you? _

“Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit,” Jon said quietly, his eyes widening as he realized Martin was right. God, did he hate to admit that. Especially over something like this. But it was true. Martin was right. They were… He didn’t even know if he could admit it to himself. 

The empty room didn’t respond, of course, but he quickly jumped out of the bed, momentarily forgetting about the IV in his arm and accidentally yanking it. Jon winced and moved a bit more carefully, grabbing the IV bag so he could carry it while he paced the room. “ _ Martin? Really? Of all people? _ ” he said, running his free hand through his messy hair. 

He steadied himself and sat back down on the end of the bed, staring down at his bandaged arm. “What am I going to  _ do _ ?” he asked himself quietly. His mind was racing and he couldn’t even begin to slow his thoughts. How was he supposed to talk about this with him? And after everything that happened? And what about Gertrude? What if Martin had been the one to kill her? What if he’d been lying about everything this whole time? What if he would use this against him?

Jon let out a heavy sigh and stared at the IV bag in his hands for a moment before hanging it back up. “I can’t let this distract me,” he said quietly. “This isn’t important right now. Not with everything going on. He… There’s a chance that he’s… No. It didn’t matter before and it doesn’t matter now. I’ve work to do,” he said, pushing himself back on the bed and leaning back into the pillows. “Now I just… I have bigger things to think about right now. I don’t have time to think about this.” 

The ticking of the clock echoed in the empty room, almost making Jon wish that someone... anyone would come back to take his mind off of things. Instead, he flicked off the lights and stared up at the ticking clock until his body finally crashed from the exhaustion. 

His sleep while in the hospital could barely be described as restful. Every few hours a nurse would come in to check on him, dressed in fully protective gear. When he wasn’t being woken by a nurse, it was the feeling that woke him. It felt like more worms writhing around under his skin, but each time he called the nurses it was nothing. Just the phantom feeling of  _ burrowing _ beneath the skin. After two days, he finally learned to tell the difference, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with. 

Jon purposefully didn’t ask for the nurses to bring him anything. Who on the outside would he ask to go to his flat for him? Tim was quarantined, Sasha was likely Tim’s contact and he didn’t want to bother her, Martin was out of the question, and he hadn’t spoken to Georgie in months… Besides, if he had his phone then he would be tempted to do something stupid. So he made due with the shitty books that the nurses could find around the hospital and the horrendous daytime television. The shitty sitcom plots almost made it easier to forget how his own life had devolved into its own drama. 

And that was how the rest of those two weeks went. He would have a nurse dressed in protective gear come and check up on him once a day, checking his vitals, changing the bandages, and giving him an antibiotic, and then he would endure the small talk they made if only because it was better than the silence. 

It was almost a relief when he was finally able to return to the Institute and get to work. A welcome distraction from it all, a way to finally get his mind off of the situation. He started by getting the others’ statements. He took notes and recorded everyone and it… It almost made him feel alive again. It was as if he felt more awake after getting everyone’s statements. It wasn’t until he got to Martin that he remembered the issue at hand again. When the other walked in the room his arm tensed and he pulled at his sleeve a little, despite knowing the bandages covered the words on his arm. 

“Jon, I already told the police what happened,” Martin said, looking absolutely exhausted as the tape recorder clicked on. 

He tried not to think about anything but the matter at hand, rubbing at his arm subconsciously. “Well, now tell me. I need to hear it. I need to record it.”

Martin looked at him a little strangely, his eyes seeming to gravitate to where Jon was rubbing at his arm, which instantly made him stop and sit up a little straighter. “I… alright. Are you okay?” he asked, looking a little pointedly at his arm, almost hopeful.

Jon shook his head and sighed. “Fine. Just… The painkillers are starting to wear off, but… It’s fine,” he said dismissively, pulling his arm off the table and resting it in his lap. 

It seemed that the hopeful look on Martin’s face slowly died away and he nodded, giving Jon the cue to begin. 

“Statement of Martin Blackwood, archival assistant, etcetera, etcetera. Go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> perhaps one day jon will open up, but today is not that day. but hey! we're done with s1 asshole jon and we're into ~s2 paranoia~
> 
> once again a big thanks to my main bitch and beta reader @pepperpotsnpans. the copilot to my plane. if you liked it, please leave a kudos or a comment. thanks for reading <3


	8. chains around my demons

The first few weeks of being back to work after the Prentiss attack were… A lot. Martin had been doing his best to juggle looking for a new flat, going back to working full time, and also checking up on Sasha, Tim, and even Jon. As much as he wanted to, he hadn’t even bothered to try and talk to Jon again about everything. He was so busy and tired that he really didn’t have the energy or the mental capacity to try and corner Jon about it. Besides, Jon had been acting strangely since coming back and, as worried as Martin was about him, he couldn’t go snooping around to find out just what was wrong. Not yet, at least. 

Martin had also noticed just how awkward Tim and Sasha seemed to be acting now that they were back. It was like Sasha was trying to act like everything was back to business as usual, but Tim… Something seemed off about him, Martin could just tell. Sure, they were all pretty messed up about what happened, but it was like some of the light had left Tim’s eyes and Martin just really wanted to understand what had gotten to him. 

He’d been in the middle of trying to come up with a way to ask Tim if he was okay without coming off as just another pitying coworker when he’d gotten a text from the man in question, asking if he wanted to have another pub night. After about a month of canceling their weekly Friday night drinks, Martin was relieved to have Tim be the one to suggest they return to their normal routine. 

They planned on their usual pub night and Martin almost felt happy. Almost. 

He got there first, smiling when he saw their usual booth was empty. He went up and ordered two beers, figuring he’d get the first round, and headed over to the back corner and took his normal spot. He’d just pulled out his phone and started flicking through it when he saw someone in the corner of his eye. 

“Marto,” Tim said tiredly, dropping into the seat across from him.

“Hey Tim,” Martin greeted with a small smile on his face as he slid the pint across the table to Tim and took a sip of his own. 

He hadn’t expected Tim to immediately take it and down a quarter of it, which made Martin sit up in his seat a bit straighter. So it would be one of  _ those _ nights for them. “Everything alright?” he asked quietly, looking the other over for a moment. 

Tim just gave a humorless laugh and shook his head, looking down at the table. “Not really, no. Hasn’t been for a while,” he said quietly. Tim’s behavior almost put Martin on edge since it was so different from his usual fun, easy-going self.

“Want to talk about it?” Martin pressed gently, taking another sip of his drink and wringing his hands. 

Martin didn’t think Tim could look more upset, but the look he had then almost made Martin’s heart break. “It’s shit, really. Sure you want to hear it?” he asked, looking up tiredly. 

“You’ve heard me tell you plenty of shit things. If you want to talk, I’m here to listen. Pretty sure that’s why pub nights were started,” Martin said with a reassuring smile. 

Tim just nodded and scratched at his temple, explaining why the pockmark scars there seemed rawer than the others on his face, the new skin still bright pink and somewhat inflamed. “My words are gone,” he said after a moment, pulling up his sleeve to reveal only a few worm scars where the words once were. “They disappeared sometime during the whole mess of things, I guess. Didn’t notice until I got to the hospital,” he said quietly, taking another big sip of beer. 

Martin felt his heart completely drop at that. “But Sasha..?” he started before stopping himself, regretting saying anything. 

The hollow laugh that Tim gave explained it all. He shook his head and looked back down at the table, smiling weakly. “Yeah, but Sasha’s alive. That was my biggest fear when I saw they were gone. I lost it on the doctors for a little while, demanded that someone call to find out if she made it out… I think they had to sedate me,” he said, smiling weakly. “She’s fine. Made it out without even a single worm in her… Complete coincidence that I lost mine that day, I guess.” He was practically finished with his drink at that point. 

“Tim, I’m so sorry,” Martin said quietly, gently rubbing at his own mark under his jumper. “I mean… That doesn’t mean you and Sasha have to break up, though, does it?” he asked, trying to sound hopeful.

Tim just snorted and threw his head back, looking up at the ceiling. “ _ Technically _ , no, that didn’t mean we had to break up. But she started acting all weird the week I got out of the hospital and then a week later she tells me she doesn’t know if she really thinks we’re on the same page anymore. I guess almost dying put things into perspective for her. She called things off this week officially. Apparently met her soulmate at a museum or something. Fucking  _ Tom _ , like really?  _ Tom _ ,” he said, raising his voice towards the end. He looked like he was barely holding it together as he closed his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. 

Martin worried his bottom lip for a moment before deciding what he could do best to help. He pushed himself up from the seat, making Tim look over at him a bit confused. Martin just smiled a little and squeezed into the booth beside Tim, pulling him into a proper hug. 

Tim seemed to melt into it instantly, tucking his face into Martin’s shoulder and letting silent tears fall. “I just thought she was the one. Even with the fuckups, it felt like we were just  _ right _ ,” he said shakily between breaths, hugging Martin tightly. 

He just nodded and rubbed Tim’s back lightly. “It’s alright,” he said softly. 

“It’s  _ not _ , though. It almost feels like she doesn’t even want to see me anymore. And  _ fuck _ , I feel like a fucking teenager crying over this right now,” he said, sniffing hard and only squeezing Martin tighter. He took a few deep breaths before he continued, “I just miss her? Like, yeah, we still work together and see each other, but it’s not the same anymore, you know? It’s like she doesn’t even want to be my friend anymore and  _ god  _ it hurts. I thought that if anything happened we would at least always be close. But now… It’s like we’re just coworkers to each other. It  _ hurts _ .”

Martin just nodded and whispered some reassurances under his breath, unsure of what else to do. Tim didn’t seem to mind, though, just holding onto him like a lifeline. “I’m sorry, Tim,” he said quietly, unsure of what else he could say. 

Tim shook his head a little and breathed in deep, letting it all out in one big, shuddering breath. “Thank you, Martin,” he said quietly, finally pulling back and wiping at his eyes. He gave a weak smile and grabbed his pint, downing the rest of it in one last gulp. “I’ll get the next round, yeah?” he asked, nodding towards Martin’s half empty glass as he rubbed at his eyes again. 

“Yeah, alright,” he said, pulling Tim in for one more hug before getting up and moving back onto his side of the table. 

He looked grateful for it and let out a deep sigh, running a hand over his face. “Wait here a minute, yeah? I’m going to head to the bathroom and get our next round, be back in a few,” Tim said, giving a weak smile as he stood up. 

Martin just smiled back and nodded, before turning his gaze down to his pint. He took a deep breath and slowly ran his finger over the rim of his glass as he stared down at the beer in it, doing his best to collect his thoughts. It all seemed to click into place now, explaining why Tim and Sasha had been so weird around each other. He hated that their whole workplace dynamic had been thrown off, though. He liked having them both as friends and he really wasn’t looking forward to acting as a middle man between them, like a child of divorced parents. 

Still, he knew he’d always be there for Tim, just like the other had always been there for him while he had been trying to work through what to do about Jon. And if Sasha ever wanted to talk to him about things… Well, he’d be there for her, too, he supposed. 

It wasn’t until two full pints were clunked down on the table that Martin was jolted from his thoughts, making him jump a little. He just shook his head and looked up at Tim, who was sliding back into his seat. 

“You alright, Martin?” Tim asked, clearly a little better than when he left. The twinkle in his eye was still long gone, but now he was trying to manage a weak smile. Still, it was nothing like his normal behavior. 

“Yeah, I’m alright, just… Thinking, you know,” he said, returning the smile and finishing the last of his first drink before pulling the second one in front of him. It felt like this would be one of those nights where maybe he went home feeling just a little bit drunk. 

Tim just nodded and took a few sips of his beer, both of them content with the silence as they got lost in thought. 

“What about you, then?” Tim asked, finally breaking the silence between them. “Have you... You know, figured things out with yours,” he asked, nodding down to Martin’s wrist that he’d been subconsciously rubbing. 

Martin just sighed deeply, the sigh tapering off into a sad huffed laugh. He took a swig of his beer before bringing himself to respond. “No, nothing. I… Well, I managed to finally talk to him? But, you know, it was in the middle of the whole thing with the worms and… He didn’t actually know what his words said? He even called the whole idea of soulmates  _ far-fetched _ , which… Really? We were in the middle of being attacked by a woman made of  _ worms _ and he thinks  _ soulmates _ are far-fetched?” he sighed again and took another sip of his beer before rubbing a hand over his face. “Honestly, it’s been what? Almost a year? I don’t… I don’t know, I think it’d just be better for me to try and move on and hope that it’s someone else? Even if it was, he clearly doesn’t want me,” he said with a sad smile. 

“He’s a fucking idiot if you are and he hasn’t said anything,” Tim said almost immediately, startling Martin with his intensity.

“Don’t say that, I mean, I get it. I’m not exactly-”

“Martin Blackwood, don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Tim interrupted, looking more serious than Martin had ever seen him. 

“It’s fine, Tim, you don’t have to-” he tried, only to be cut off again. 

“I mean it, Martin. Don’t start trying to justify anything. You are an absolutely amazing person. Really. You’re the kindest person I know and you’re competent and smart and funny and really the sweetest person in the world with the patience of a saint and fuck, if Jon is your soulmate then he doesn’t deserve you. Honestly, I don’t know why anyone would know someone was their soulmate and not say anything. That’s just… It’s cruel.” Tim drank another mouthful of his beer at that, the glass clunking loudly on the table when he set it back down. “You deserve to find your soulmate, Martin. You deserve to be happy with them and I hope you are. I hope they appreciate you. Because if anyone deserves it, it’s you.” 

Martin swallowed hard and bit his bottom lip, trying to stop it from quivering as his eyes started to well up. “I… Thank you, Tim. Really,” he said very quietly after a few moments, rubbing at his eyes to stop the tears from falling. 

Tim just returned a weak smile and reached across the table to give Martin’s hand a light squeeze. “I mean it. I hope you find yours and get to be happy with them.”

He squeezed his hand back before picking up his drink and taking a big gulp of it. He didn’t want to dwell too much on all that now, not wanting to end up having both of them cry in the pub that night. “Thanks. Just… Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, but you’re welcome.” 

The silence between them was comfortable for a bit while Martin managed to push away the tears and calm himself down. Once it looked like he’d be alright, Tim let out a small sigh and sat up a little straighter. “I’m starving, do you want to split something to eat with me?” he asked, lightening the mood between them.

Martin smiled and gave a nod, letting some of the tension in his body out. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, i know this is a day late. i was traveling Saturday to see my family for thanksgiving, as was my beta reader (pepperpotsnpans). but! here it is! thanks to everyone for reading so far, please leave a kudos or a comment if you like it! <3


	9. cold was the steel of my axe to grind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jon's red string board time

Jon glared down at his desk and the piles of papers and photos there, trying to make sense of it all. He kept picking up the pages, almost wishing he had a corkboard that he could hang it all up on so he piece it all together. As if that would help his case with everyone thinking he was paranoid. He wasn’t, of course. His fears were completely valid, his concerns had footing. At least, that was what he kept telling himself. 

He sighed and threw his head back, rubbing at his eyes behind his glasses. “Why doesn’t this all _make sense_?” he asked the empty room, knowing he wouldn’t get an answer. 

Staying late at the Archives was probably not the best idea, but it gave him a quiet place to think everything over. He pulled his legs up onto his desk chair and hugged them close to his chest. Nothing seemed to add up, none of it all made sense. He let out another sigh and looked back down at the piles. 

He reached over and loaded a fresh tape into the recorder, he might as well record it all. As much as he’d bemoaned the tape recorders at first, they had become incredibly useful. It also almost made him feel better about talking all his thoughts aloud, like someone was listening. 

“Supplement, the evidence against Martin. Nothing about him is adding up,” he started, straightening up again as he stared down at the stack of papers that he’d come to think of as ‘Martin’s pile’. “As I’ve said before, I’ve been paying close attention to him. His actions aren’t consistent. First, there’s the fact that he’s been extremely… attentive to my needs. He seems to always want to check on me, constantly hovering and asking if I need something. While this isn’t too big of a change from before, it isn’t consistent with how he’s been acting with Tim and Sasha. I know he’s close with Tim, they’re friends, and he’s always liked Sasha, so it doesn’t make sense. He’s even gotten to the point of neglecting his work in order to attempt to look after me. In a way, he’s making my job harder by not getting that work done. It’s gotten even worse than when he was completely incompetent,” he paused and took a deep breath, picking up the first few pieces of paper off the pile, pulling out a crumpled up sheet of paper that he’d found in the document storage room after Martin had moved out. 

_What I don’t know is killing me._

_Every time I have tried to ask,_

_Fate has had other plans,_

_When will I know,_

_If he is the one?_

Jon pushed the poetry aside and shook his head. “I know anyone else, if they knew the situation, may claim that he is only hovering so much due to the fact that our words match; however, I don’t know if it is that simple. Especially given the fact that he is… unaware that I have his written on my arm. Besides, his concern over me is hardly the only thing I have noticed about him,” he continued on, hardly noticing the way he’d begun to rub at the words on his arm. 

“Next there’s his interest in my investigations in Gertrude’s murder. For someone who believes we should just let the police handle it, he has taken a keen interest in hearing my theories. I threw him off my trail by saying I believed it was whatever is lurking in the archives, but he still seemed unsatisfied by that. Again, if he thinks I should stop worrying since the police are investigating, then why is he concerned with my thoughts on the matter?” Jon groaned and ran a hand over his face, taking a moment to rub at his eyes. 

“I don’t know why things aren’t adding up. Has he been playing the fool this whole time? What is he hiding? There’s one last piece of evidence I found,” he paused to flip through the papers, grabbing the crumpled up and slightly torn piece from the bottom of the stack. “Here I have a letter that I’d found when cleaning out the document storage room after Martin moved out. It was addressed to his mother, simply giving her an update on how he was doing and clearly leaving out vast amounts of details, though I can’t fault him too hard for that. Nevertheless, the second paragraph, which was crossed out, begins with _‘If the others find out I’ve been lying’_ . Lying about what? That is _incredibly_ suspicious, more so than any other piece of evidence I’ve gathered on anyone. Has he been playing the fool this whole time? Did he kill Gertrude Robinson and has been trying to get close to me for a reason?” 

Jon’s voice was getting rushed by this point, he could tell he was speaking a bit too fast, much faster than he normally would when recording statements, almost frantic. He needed to find out what it all meant. 

“What if… Is he really even my soulmate? Was that part real? Or was that a lie, too? He didn’t exactly tell me about it straight away. Took almost a _year_ for him to finally spit it out to me. Was that intentional? Did he mean to do that? Tell me at the most inopportune time because he thought that we could what? Trauma bond together? He doesn’t even know what my words say and his aren’t exactly rare, so perhaps he started planning this as soon as we met. What if this is all part of an elaborate scheme?” His hair was a mess with how much he was running his hands through it, black and grey strands alike all out of place and frizzing around him. Jon took a deep breath and did his best to center himself. He couldn’t let his emotions get the better of him. 

Once his breathing was under control again, he continued. “I don’t know where the lie begins and ends with him. There is no reason for him to be acting as suspicious as he is, and yet… Nothing is adding up and I’m left with too many unanswered questions. Why did he wait so long to finally ask if I was his soulmate? Was it intentional? Why is he showing such a keen interest in my recovery, even more so than Tim or Sasha? Why does he care what my theories are about Gertrude’s murder? And finally, _what is he lying about_ ? I don’t know how I can get answers to any of this, but… I think I’ll need to confront him sooner rather than later. I think I have enough evidence to warrant it. Perhaps one of the times he comes in to bring me tea or _‘check up on me’_ I can corner him. Then I’ll get him on tape. I want to keep everything documented, that way… That way if I end up like Gertrude, then someone will at least have a trail to follow. End supplement.”

Jon clicked the tape recorder off and started tiredly down at the paper stacks before glancing at his watch to check the time. It was already nearing nine and he knew he probably should’ve gone home hours ago. He could feel the exhaustion setting in now that he’d gotten everything out on Martin. Jon would be lying if he said he didn’t think about recording what he had on Tim, but his stomach rumbled loudly and he decided that was his cue. Carefully, he shoved all the evidence he had on Tim, Sasha, Elias, and then finally Martin, the most likely suspects, into separate file folders and then locked those folders up in his desk, along with the supplemental tapes.

Once he was sure it was locked up, he slowly made his way out of the Archives and began the trek back to his flat. There were still so many questions running through his head as he made his way to the tube station. This had almost become his routine, taking a late train home after all his coworkers were long gone. The commute gave him time to think and the night train tended to have fewer people, which helped ease his mind a little. 

He moved through the world on autopilot until he got back home, letting his shoulders finally loosen and some of the tension leak out of him. His head was still spinning, but he knew he had to force himself to eat something. As much as he wasn’t hungry, he knew he probably needed the calories. Jon laughed, perhaps a little manically, as he thought of Martin telling him just earlier about how he was ‘wasting away’ and needed to ‘take better care of himself’. Perhaps this one time he would do as Martin wanted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked this one, I had to do a bit of shifting things around in order to make the s2 arc flow better, so my beta reader and I came up with the plot of this chapter this week and I made it work lmao. also, you might've noticed that I updated the chapter count from 23 to 25, i felt like I was rushing things a little originally, so I planned out two more chapters to throw in. 
> 
> thanks again for reading! and thank you to greta, my main bitch, for beta reading. <3


	10. bad was the blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up, martin has some anxiety in here and jon is paranoia to the max

Martin leaned against the counter of the breakroom as he waited for the kettle to boil. He’d pulled down two mugs already, one for himself and one for Jon. Martin knew he wasn’t taking care of himself, Jon seemed like he was losing more weight by the day and the man was always tired. It worried Martin, so he was doing the best he could to bring Jon tea and little snacks as often as he could. 

Even if he really wasn’t Martin’s soulmate, he still wanted Jon to be okay. As he was about to open the fridge and see if there was anything in there he could bring to Jon, the door burst open and caused him to nearly fall over. 

“Martin,” Jon said with something of a frantic look in his eyes.

“Um, yes? Everything alright? I was just about to bring you some tea,” he said a little nervously, trying to smile at him and maybe put him at ease. The look in Jon’s eyes paired with his accusatory tone put Martin on edge. 

Jon did the last thing Martin expected and laughed, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think everything is alright,  _ actually _ . We need to talk.” 

Martin furrowed his brow a little and frowned. Maybe there was a small part of him that hoped that this would be the moment he and Jon could finally talk again after the Prentiss attack. He knew it wasn’t, not with how Jon was acting, but… Still, he could let part of him hope. “Well, okay, we can in just a minute? The tea is almost ready and then we can have a chat about… whatever you need?” 

“No,” came Jon’s fast response, cutting through just about all of Martin’s hope. “We need to talk  _ now _ .”

“Jon, the tea will only just take another minute. We can even let it steep in your offi-”

“Martin,  _ now _ .” He seemed to be getting angry now, so Martin decided to choose his battles wisely. Whatever Jon wanted to talk about seemed to be the most important thing for him at the moment, clearly.

Martin sighed and turned around to click the kettle off. “Fine. Let’s go to your office and talk, then,” he said, gesturing for Jon to lead the way. 

That seemed to snap him out of it a little and Jon gave a curt nod before spinning on his heel and storming out of the room. Martin ran a hand heavily over his face and sighed deeply before following after. He saw Jon glance over his shoulder every few moments, as if afraid that somehow Martin would escape in the short walk down the hallway. How? He didn’t know and nor did he know what Jon would do if Martin  _ did  _ manage to run off. 

Jon pushed open the door to his office and immediately stalked over to his desk, clicking the tape recorder on as he moved behind the desk. “Sit down,” he said, nodding his head to the seat across from him as he settled into his chair. 

“Jon, what is this all abo-” he started, only to have Jon cut him off.

“Martin,  _ sit _ and I’ll get to the point,” he said, his clipped tone was icy, making Martin hold back a shiver. Even when Jon was scolding him for messing up another report he’d never sounded like this. It scared him a little. 

“Fine,” he said after a moment of Jon staring him down. Martin walked over and slowly lowered himself into the seat across from Jon, trying to avoid Jon’s eye contact. “Now what is it?”

Jon nodded and glanced down at the tape recorder, as if checking it was still running. “Why did you lie to me about Trevor and tell me he was dead?” 

Martin furrowed his brow. Of all the things Jon could’ve asked him, that wasn’t what he was expecting. “What? Trevor? Trevor who?” he asked, his face contorted as he strained his memory. 

“ _ Trevor Herbert! _ ” Jon snapped, running a hand through his hair as he huffed in frustration. “The  _ vampire hunter _ . The tramp that came in-” he paused to shuffle a few papers on his desk and grabbed the first page of what looked like a statement. “He came in and gave his statement on July 10th, 2010. You told me he  _ died _ .” 

“Well,” Martin paused, almost scared to answer now. “Didn’t he? I mean… I never… I didn’t ever meet him? You know, gossip travels fast around the Institute and… Well, some of the researchers that came into the library kept talking about him.”

He could tell that his answer had thrown Jon off completely. The other stared at him incredulously for a moment before almost laughing. “So that’s it, then. This was all just what? A  _ misunderstanding _ ?” he asked, glaring daggers at Martin. 

“I mean… Yeah? I thought he was dead. Maybe someone just said he looked like death or something? I don’t- I’m sorry? I don’t see why you’re taking this personally?” he asked, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he glanced up at Jon. 

“It’s personal because you keep  _ lying to me _ , Martin,” Jon snarled. Martin watched as he dug around in a drawer of his desk for a moment. He could hear the sounds of papers being shuffled through. Jon slammed a slightly crumpled piece of paper on the desk and Martin could feel his heart drop as he noticed it was from his notebook. 

“Where did you find that?” he asked immediately, his heart rate increasing as he tried to make out what he’d written. “Have you been going through my things?” 

Jon rolled his eyes and Martin could make out the hint of a smirk on his face, as if he’d finally caught Martin in the act of something. “I found it in document storage from when you were living here. A letter to your mother where you write ‘If the others find out I’ve been lying’ - what are you lying to us about,  _ Martin _ ?” 

The way Jon said his name made him shiver with a little bit of fear. “It’s nothing. Just… Just forget about it. Please. It’s really not important, Jon,” he pleaded, trying to keep his expression as calm as possible when he could feel the panic bubbling inside him. 

That only seemed to anger Jon more, though. Martin could see the way Jon’s eyes narrowed further and he tensed up. “No, I can’t just  _ forget about it _ . It seems like everyone here has so many goddamn  _ secrets _ . Why should I trust a word you say? First you lie about Trevor and now whatever  _ this _ is-” Martin cut him off, trying to pull together every ounce of courage he had in his body. 

“Jon, it’s nothi-” But Jon was having none of it. 

“ _ Then tell me! _ ” he yelled. 

Martin took a few deep breaths so he didn’t dissolve into a panic attack. “Fine. Fine. Just… I need you to promise that you won’t… That this won’t have me fired. Please,” he said slowly, doing his best to keep himself calm. 

Jon furrowed his brow and scoffed. “I don’t think  _ firing you _ is the- You know what, fine. I won’t have you  _ fired _ ,” he said, shaking his head. 

Martin nodded and took a deep breath, slowly breathing out before nodding again. “I… I lied on my CV. I don’t actually have a degree in parapsychology or a degree at all… I… Well, I dropped out at 17 to help my mum and we needed the money, but nowhere was hiring, so I… I started lying on all my applications and applying everywhere. Parapsychology stuck out to Elias, I guess, and I got the job here. Almost everything on my CV is a lie. Even my age,” he said, pausing every couple of moments to take a breath. He knew Jon said he wouldn’t fire him, but he was bracing for the worst.

It shocked him, then, when Jon let out a laugh. Martin looked up finally to see Jon smiling a little manically and shaking his head. “Why.. Why are you smiling?” he asked slowly, wondering if he should be even more scared. 

“I believe you,” he said, letting out another small laugh. 

Martin frowned and swallowed hard, wringing his hands together. “So you… You won’t tell Elias?” he asked hesitantly. 

Jon just shook his head, his smile widening a little. “It’ll be our secret, just between us,” he said, clicking off the tape recorder. 

He breathed out a sigh of relief, but didn’t let himself fully relax. “What did you think I was lying about?” he asked slowly, watching Jon as he shoved the old letter back into his desk drawer. It made Martin wonder what else he had hidden away in there. 

“I don’t think that matters now,” he said as he closed the drawer firmly and Martin could hear a key turning a lock. 

He frowned a little and looked down across the desk at his still smiling boss. “I mean… I think it does? I’d like to know what I was being accused of?” he asked.

Jon just huffed and shook his head. When he looked back up at Martin his smile was gone and he just looked a little annoyed. Nothing like before, but his manic grin was gone and his lips were pressed into a thin line. “You were being accused of lying to me, Martin. Of what, I wasn’t sure. Hence the… discussion.”

“Interrogation, more like,” he said under his breath without thinking. “You had to have had assumptions about what I could’ve been lying about. I find it hard to believe you would question me without a theory,” he said quickly before Jon could comment on the interrogation remark. 

“Of course I had theories,” he said, rolling his eyes, which only got Martin more annoyed. “I don’t think it’s very important, Martin. What matters is that they were wrong and clearly your  _ lies _ weren’t as… severe as I thought.”

Martin could tell Jon was beating around the bush and it only served to frustrate him. “If it doesn’t matter, then you shouldn’t have a problem in telling me,” he pressed, his own eyes narrowing slightly. 

Jon sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “Fine. You know what, fine. Everyone here has something to hide and I don’t know who I can trust. Everyone here is a suspect,” he said it like it was a matter of fact, but Martin’s jaw dropped open. 

“A suspect? Is this about Gertrude’s murder?” he asked, almost laughing in shock. 

“That, among other things. How was I to know how far the lie ran? Perhaps you would’ve done anything to get close to me so I could be next since clearly my life has been put in danger recently, as well,” he said, pursing his lips together. 

Martin took a moment to think about what Jon just said before he looked at him incredulously. “ _ Get close to you _ ? Jon, are you saying that you thought I, what? Lied about caring for your safety? Lied about being curious on your theories about Gertrude’s murder? Or even…” He knew what else Jon meant, the biggest lie Jon thought he was telling. He knew Jon thought he’d lied about thinking that their words corresponded, that they were soulmates, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. How could he? Few people would dare lie about that. It wasn’t something like it was illegal, but only because people knew better. 

Jon simply frowned again. He had the decency to look a little embarrassed, at least. “As I said, I didn’t know how deep the lie went,” he said simply, avoiding the question. 

That was all Martin needed to confirm what he already knew. He shook his head and stood up from his seat, almost knocking the chair back behind him. “Right. Well, I’m so glad that you’d think I’d lie about something like  _ that _ ,” he said, rubbing at his face. “Maybe next time just try  _ talking  _ to people? We’re all worried about you, Jon. All of us. Me, Tim, Sasha… Maybe think about that next time, yeah?” he added before turning on his heel and walking out of Jon’s office without a second glance. He could feel the adrenaline slowly leaving him and he knew if he stayed in there a moment longer he might say something he’d regret. 

Martin was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost walked right into Tim in the hallway, only stopping because the other grabbed his shoulder, startling him back to reality. 

“Hey, you okay?” Tim asked him, looking a little concerned. 

He let out a little hollow laugh and shook his head. “Want to have pub night early this week?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter is a little late this week, i finished writing it last night at 1am and then my beta reader read it like an hour ago lmao. thanks Greta, love you. i promise this is peak paranoia for jon, he will start calming the fuck down soon.
> 
> thank you all for reading so far, if you like it please consider leaving a kudos or a comment, they really mean so much to me! <3


	11. something wrapped my past mistakes in barbed wire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey friends, sorry for no chapter last week! Life as well as RQGG got in the way, but to make it up to you (and to stay on my personal track) here's two chapters this week. And with these, we're finally done with s2 (and I've passed the 20k mark!!) Thanks to all of you for reading! <3
> 
> heads up for minor martin mom trauma in this chapter and jon being nosy

Jon ran a hand through his hair and sighed as he glanced down at the paperwork on his desk. There were a handful of statements left for him to read that week, plus a few follow ups that Tim and Sasha had completed. Although, Tim’s follow ups had gotten less helpful over the last few weeks. It wasn’t a mystery why that was, though. Jon knew he’d pushed them all away, especially Tim with… Well, he supposed the stalking maybe was a touch too far. He hadn’t known, though. Tim very well  _ could’ve _ been the murderer, he wouldn’t have known without watching him. 

He opened the drawer in his desk and pulled out the files he’d had on Martin, Tim, Sasha, and Elias, sighing as he flipped through the pages. The CCTV tapes that Elias had given him did check out, he couldn’t find any real reason to keep any of the files on any of them open. It did seem like they really were innocent. Something in the pit of his stomach told him something was off, though. He couldn’t put his finger on what, but something felt wrong about it all. 

The only thing he knew for certain was that it wasn’t actually Martin, which did actually put his mind at ease a little. He’d felt a tinge of regret after interrogating him a few weeks ago, especially after Martin had seemed genuinely offended at the accusations. It wasn’t his fault the man had been acting so suspicious, though. First the attention to detail about his condition, then the scrap of the letter about the lying, and combined with everything else… Well, it didn’t seem right at the time. Jon did wonder if he’d taken it a step too far, though. He rubbed at his arm lightly and glanced up at the clock on the wall. Its hands read just past noon and Jon couldn’t ignore how his stomach was beginning to grumble quietly. 

Jon sighed and dropped the files back into his drawer, promising himself that he’d take them home to shred later. At least Martin’s file… And Tim’s. He pushed himself up from the desk, straightening out his back as he did so, before making his way out of the office. 

Tim barely gave him a second glance as he walked by his assistant’s desks and Sasha seemed to be gone again, taking her lunch out most days to see her boyfriend or something. Jon did notice that Martin’s desk was decidedly empty, so he braced himself for the possibility of running into him in the breakroom. He almost hoped Martin would just ignore him for once. 

He slowly made his way down the hall and had just placed his hand on the door of the breakroom when he heard Martin’s voice from coming inside. Jon frowned, straining his ears to try and make out while he was talking to, but he couldn’t hear any other voices, just Martin sounding… sad? Frustrated, perhaps?

He did his best to listen closely, trying to actually make out what he was saying. 

“Yes, I know. I-” Martin said, the frustration clear in his voice. “I  _ know _ , please, I-”

Jon knew he shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but it was almost like he was drawn in to needing to know what Martin was talking about. 

“At least the view is nice, then,” he agreed, but it sounded like he was holding his tongue, like he wanted to say more. 

The long pause after that made Jon worry that the conversation had ended already and he tensed as he heard the old couch in the room shift. He prepared to make his escape, hoping he could make it seem like he was only just walking up. Just as he was about to start walking away Martin spoke up again. 

“Well, um, mum just figured I’d call to talk a bit about you know... how things have been lately. Been a while, you know? Lot has happened at work and I’m looking for a new flat,” he started, trying to sound a little hopeful. 

Jon almost laughed at that. Certainly one could say that a lot had happened, between the worms and the attack and Gertrude… He hadn’t known Martin was looking for a new flat, but he couldn’t say he was surprised. Jon didn’t think he’d be able to stay in his flat if he’d gone through what Martin had. 

He’d almost been too sucked into his thoughts to hear Martin’s next words, but the creak of the couch inside pulled him back out of it. 

“Well, mum, I’m not in the library anymore. Haven’t been for… well, a bit over a year, actually. I do archival work now,” Martin said this with a hint of annoyance in his tone, not like he was talking to someone with memory problems, but rather like he was talking to someone who chose not to remember details. It made Jon all the more curious.

Martin’s tone was only getting more annoyed when he tried to stop whatever his mother was saying with a, “Mum, it’s really not-” but he was clearly cut off. 

The next thing Jon heard was a sigh come out of Martin’s mouth. Jon could’ve sworn that he heard the woman on the other line after that, her tone angry and upset. It made Jon think once again about how he shouldn’t be listening in on any of this. 

The biting tone of the woman went on for a few moments before Martin’s soft, defeated voice spoke up again. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t… You’re right, of course… You’re always right,” he said. Jon noted how tired he sounded, like he was just going through the motions now. “At least they pay well?” he added, like a last ditch effort.

Whatever Martin’s mother said in response, Jon didn’t know. It seemed like her tone had gone back to whatever it was before. He did hear the couch springs creaking loudly as Martin pushed himself to his feet. Jon prepared to dart down the hall, but it didn’t sound like Martin was coming towards the door, rather just pacing the little breakroom as he continued to talk. 

“Yeah… Well, I did just get a raise?” he said, his tone a little lighter now. He only paused for a moment before quickly explaining, “Well, like I was saying, a lot kind of went on so they gave the archive staff all raises. It was actually kind of weird, we had like an attack on the institu-” 

Jon was fully prepared for Martin to start going into full details about everything that happened during the attack or even before that, prepared for him to tell his mother all about how he’d found his soulmate, but Martin stopped mid-sentence. By this point Jon was practically pressed up against the door, trying to hear what Martin was saying, straining his ears to hear what his mother said. 

“Right, yeah, but it was crazy what happened. There was an attac-” he started again, but now it sounded like he was losing steam again. 

He heard the scrape of one of the chairs at the table and then Martin settling into it. He could almost picture Martin running his hand through his hair as he mumbled, “Right, okay, sorry.” 

Jon felt his gut clench at how sad Martin sounded. He didn’t want to assume exactly what was happening, but… Well, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together and Martin really was bad at masking his emotions. His voice gave it all away. 

Martin took a deep breath before he spoke, like he was trying to push forward and through the emotion. “Right, yeah, sorry. I just thought we could catch up a little. I… Well, the flat is really quiet lately and I guess I, well, I-”

The pause this time was deafening, Jon held his breath, only letting it out when Martin quietly said, “I missed you.”

Martin’s voice just barely cracked as he said it and Jon knew that was his cue to go. He’d heard far too much already. He rubbed at his eyes, hating how they’d gotten a little hazy. It was probably just from where he was standing, though, the hallways had always been… dusty. That’s what he told himself, at least. 

Jon immediately moved away from the door and down the hallway, almost bumping into Tim as he rushed back to his office. 

“What’s the hurry?” Tim said in the same hollow tone that had become familiar in the last few months. 

Jon just shook his head. “Have quite a lot of work to do,” he said far too quickly, mind already running over all the new information he’d just gathered about Martin. “You should head into the breakroom,” he added before he could hold his tongue. 

Tim narrowed his eyes at him, clearly distrusting and confused. 

“Martin sounded upset,” was all Jon replied with before he slipped into his office and closed the door behind him, leaving Tim with narrowed eyes as he cautiously made his way down the hall.


	12. the boys who broke my heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up for s2 finale content, timothy swears a lot, and none of them are okay

“What the  _ hell _ was that?” Tim asked, gasping for breath. 

Martin swallowed hard, eyes darting back and forth from where they’d just run from and to Tim. He didn’t know what he saw, but… He didn’t think Tim would like the answer he had. “It… It uh… Well, it kind of looked like…” he started, gasping between words. 

Tim cut him off, shaking his head. “Don’t say it.”

Martin expected that, but he took a few more moments to catch his breath before he looked over at Tim. He could see the denial in Tim’s face, as well as the anger. “It did, though, didn’t it? Just… stretched out?” he asked, brow furrowed. 

Tim immediately shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “No. That wasn’t Sasha,” he said with an air of finality. 

Martin just nodded, letting out another shaky breath. “Right… No. No, it wasn’t. You’re right,” he took a long pause, looking back at wherever that creature had been. “You don’t… You don’t think-”

“No. He told her to go home! Just like us!” 

Tim sounded like he was trying to convince them both, but Martin knew better than to comment. He just nodded slowly, still not looking away. “Yeah,” he said quietly.

“And she did,” Tim continued.

Martin sighed and finally looked back at Tim. “Yeah…” he agreed. “It went into the tunnels,” he said after a moment. 

Tim met his eyes, already starting to shake his head. “No. Martin, nope, not happening. We’re not-” 

But Martin didn’t let him finish. “Tim, we can’t just leave him,” he said, 

“Yes, we  _ can _ ,” Tim said, already sounding exasperated. 

Martin swallowed hard and rubbed at his arm, shaking his head. “ _ I can’t _ ,” he said, putting his foot down. “I’m going, whether you come with me or not,” he said, starting to walk forward.

“Martin! Mart- I’m not going down there with you!” Tim started, but Martin just kept walking. If he had to do it alone, fine, but he wasn’t just going to leave Jon to die. He couldn’t. He could hear Tim groan and let out a long breath before he moved. “Fuck.  _ Fine _ ,” he said, mashing the button on the tape recorder as he jogged a few paces to catch up.

The tunnels got dark the further they went and neither of them really wanted to make too much of a noise. They were both on edge as they kept moving, Martin was afraid to check around every corner, while Tim… Well, he just seemed exhausted with it all. Martin wanted to feel bad for pulling him into things and making him go along with it all, but he couldn’t. 

Martin was about to press down another long hallway when Tim stopped suddenly and narrowed his eyes.

“What is it? Tim, we need to hurry,” he said quietly as the tape recorder clicked on again. 

Tim just waved his hand quickly, while shushing him. “I thought I’d heard something down there,” he said, gesturing down the corridor. 

Martin narrowed his eyes, straining his ears for anything, but all he heard was the sound of their own breathing. “I didn’t hear anything. Do you think it was that… Sasha-thing?” he asked, already sensing Tim tense up beside him.

Tim swallowed hard beside him, his whole body tense. “It wasn’t her. Now how the hell do you think we’re going to find Jon down here? It’s impossible, we don’t even know where we’re  _ going _ .”

He sighed, trying to ignore the obvious change of subject. “Then go get some help,” he said, refusing to stop walking. 

“Maybe Elias is still in his office,” Tim mumbled, already looking behind them. 

“Oh really, now you want to go to Elias for help? The man who’s just a waste of a suit?” he threw back, just barely stopping himself from rolling his eyes. “What would he do, Tim? Really?”

“I don’t  _ know _ , Martin, but he’d be better than nothing!”

Martin huffed and rolled his eyes, but didn’t stop walking down the tunnel. “Then go, go get him and see what he can do, but I’m not leaving.”

Tim threw his head back, taking a moment to stop. “You’re not staying down here alone,” he said after a pause.

Martin stopped and spun around so he was looking back at Tim. “I thought you were the one who wanted to quit and to get out of here? Then  _ go _ ,” he asked. Maybe he was pushing Tim’s buttons a little, but he couldn’t take it. Everything that had happened, he was starting to get to the end of his rope. 

“For God’s sake. This isn’t about you, Martin!” Tim said, throwing his hands up in the air. 

“Is it ever about me? Like really, Tim. God, we’re all going through it right now!”

Tim almost laughed at that, but Martin could see the anger he was holding back. “Fine, then let’s talk about  _ you _ . What does  _ Martin _ want? What’s your light at the end of these fucking tunnels? And please, spare me a happily ever after, because we’re being realistic.”

Martin was heated now, he could tell that his face was warm and flushed and he was glaring back at Tim. 

“Well?” Tim pressed, just pushing Martin the bit further he needed to go over the edge. 

“Fine! I don’t know, alright? I don’t know! Is it too much to ask to just not want to die by some spooky means? To just want all of us to be alive and safe and maybe even happy? I could even do without the whole mess with Jon getting cleared up if it meant we could  _ live  _ and stop being at each other’s throats all the time,” he said, turning back around so Tim couldn’t see him as he tried to catch his breath. 

There was a long pause between them and Martin through that Tim might come back with some snarky remark, but instead he just heard a soft  _ Fine _ , which only made Martin let out a dark huffed laugh. “It’s not  _ fine _ , actually. Just about every pub night you spend going on and on about how you’re feeling alone and how Jon isn’t taking  _ your _ feelings into account while he’s in the middle of a breakdown. Well guess what, Tim, we’re all going through shit right now, but you’re the only one trying to run away from it,” he said, starting to shake a little. 

Martin could hear Tim swallow hard. He felt a little bad about blowing up, but also he meant every word of what he said. Martin could hear his footsteps coming closer and then could feel a hand on his shoulder, making all the tension drain from them. “Let’s just keep moving, okay? Jon must be down further, there’s no one here.”

Martin opened his mouth to say something, but he froze when he heard the creak of a door behind them. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say that.”

They both spun around to see a blonde man behind them, Tim immediately jumped in front of Martin, like he could shield him from whatever this person could do. 

“Stay back!” Tim yelled as Martin’s eyes darted around, trying to look right at the other, but his eyes straining every time he did. 

“What if I don’t?” the man grinned, looking at them both curiously. 

Martin pushed Tim’s arm down and rolled his shoulders back so he was standing a little taller. “Who are you?” he asked, trying to look the man in the eye. 

“Oh, I love surprises. Did the Archivist not tell you about Michael?” he asked, eyes seeming far too wide for his face.

“What are you doing here?” Tim pressed before Martin could answer.

Michael just laughed, a sound that hurt Martin’s ears. “Oh, you know, just having a bit of fun. Watching the Archivist die will be very exciting.”

Martin felt the knot in the pit of his stomach tighten painfully. “No,” he said softly, hand immediately moving to clutch at his arm. 

“Hm, well, you know. I could also just kill you two. It certainly would be easier than killing him, especially since none of you have any protections down here,” he continued, leaning forward and grinning that toothy smile that eerily reminded Martin of the Cheshire cat. 

“No. Hang on just a minute. No one is killing anyone.”

“Martin…” Tim started, but Martin couldn’t hear him. 

“There’s two of us here and there’s clearly only one of you!” he continued, pushing his chest forward and making himself try to seem intimidating. 

“Martin! Stop! Look- Look at his hands!”

That confused Martin enough to snap out of it for just a moment to see that the finger Michael was tapping against his lip was far too long to be normal and that toothy smile had turned dangerous. 

“Run!” Tim yelled, but Martin was already turning on his heel. They were in mid stride when a bright yellow door opened in front of them, practically sucking them in.

* * *

Martin didn’t know how long they’d been walking, but it’d felt like days. His legs had started to burn ages ago and there was a constant headache resting behind his eyes as just seeing the place they were in hurt his head. 

“We’re fucking never going to get out of here,” Tim said, not for the first time. 

Martin shook his head, his shoulders slumped over as he took another corner. “Stop it. We’ll find a way out… We have to get back to get Jon.”

“It’s all… Nothing is  _ right _ , Martin. What’s even the point anymore? The whole fucking Institute and everyone in it is just all  _ wrong _ . Jon is thinking everyone is out to get him, Elias is more of a bastard than ever, and Sasha… Nothing about it feels right with her! It hasn’t since the Prentiss attack. But that… That doesn’t mean that that thing was… She can’t be a monster,” he said, his voice tapering off towards the end. 

“I’m sorry,” Martin said softly, not knowing what else to say. 

“How would you feel if you saw Jon like that? If Jon looked like some eldritch monster or something?”

Martin hoped more than anything else that he would never know the answer to that question. 

“God, I can’t believe I’m going to die fucking crying about this shit. I can’t. Why can’t life just be  _ fair _ for once?” he asked, moving to kick at the wall beside them. “I just want it all back to normal.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again, leaning up against the nearest wall and letting his head fall back against it. “We’re going to get out of here. I just… We just need to keep looking for that door,” he said again. Martin pulled his arm to his chest, running his hand over his mark. The whole time they’d been stuck there he’d kept checking on it, looking it over, just reassuring himself that whatever that thing that wasn’t Sasha was hadn’t gotten him. 

“Martin, can’t you see that it’s pointless? That we’ll never-” Tim started before cutting himself off. 

Martin waited a few moments for Tim to continue, only to be startled when he felt Tim’s hand on his shoulder, pulling him away from the wall. “What are you doing?!” he asked, opening his eyes and glaring back at Tim. 

Tim just waved his hand at the wall, but… No. It wasn’t a wall anymore. Where he was leaning up against was now a big, bright yellow door. Martin’s eyes widened as Tim reached for the handle and the door opened. The two of them looked at each other for a moment before carefully taking a step out of the room and into… What looked like the Archives?

Everything looked… Normal? Martin looked around, trying to check that they really were where he thought they were, trying to look for any signs of distortion or strange colors, but everything looked just as boring as he remembered. 

“Tim?” he asked, but the man was busy trying to fiddle with that stupid tape recorder. “Tim!” 

“What? I think I finally got this thing working again!” he said, holding up the recorder with a bit of triumph. 

“Are we sure this is really normal? That we’re not still stuck in that place?” he asked, almost nervous to get an answer.

But Tim just nodded, once again nodding to the recorder. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure. The recorder didn’t work in there, remember? We’ve got to be back.”

Martin nodded and looked around. All the lights were out in the office, but that really didn’t say much. “How long do you think we were gone?” he asked, rubbing at his face. 

“Don’t know, but honestly I really don’t care anymore. All this shit is just going to keep happening until it kills us,” he said tiredly, looking around. His eyes lingered on Sasha’s desk for a moment before he turned fully, looking back at the space the door had once been. 

Martin stayed quiet for a moment, before he looked over at Jon’s office door. “We should look for him,” he said quietly. 

“He’s probably already dead,” Tim said with a small, humorless laugh. 

Martin’s eyes widened for a moment, pulling up his sleeve to check at his words once again. What if that place had been a different time? What if it had made it so he didn’t know what was real? All the what-ifs flew through his head until he pulled up his sleeve and saw that messy script still written down his arm. “Don’t joke like that,” he said seriously, pulling his sleeve back down. 

Tim just shrugged. “Fine, not dead, but… Who knows what could’ve happened to him. I guess we could try his office.”

Martin nodded and walked across the room, hoping more than anything that Jon was in there and just asleep at his desk or something. 

“Jon?” he called, pushing the door open. He froze on the spot as he looked at the mess that was before him, one hand moving to cover his mouth. “Oh God,” he said, more to himself than anyone, as his stomach churned uneasily. 

He could hear Tim walk up beside him, the body of… someone lay mangled on the floor just in front of Jon’s desk. “God, I knew he was going to do something like that. I knew you fucking deserved better than him,” Tim said quietly, but Martin could barely hear him.

“Jon… What have you done?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there we go, the end of s2. finally we can get away from jon being Like That TM. Sorry again for the week off, ngl i wrote most of these two chapters like yesterday and edited them this morning with my dear beta reader, the bitch i can always count on, pepperpotsnpans. let me know your thoughts so far in the comments or leave a kudos, they really make my entire day. 
> 
> Thank yall, we're really halfway there now <3


	13. time, curious time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy holidays, folks. please know this is one of the first chapters i wrote because i knew i needed a "georgie tells jon off for being Like That" chapter. i'm so glad I can finally share it with yall.

Jon came back to the flat, clutching at his arm and trying to blink away the tears. Just above his wrist was blistering, making it painfully obvious where Jude had touched him. He was scared to look down at the damage, just wanting to get back inside where he was safe. 

Once the door clicked shut behind him, he let out a small sigh of relief, closing his eyes and resting his head back against the door, arm held tightly to his chest. 

He almost laughed when the Admiral came right up to him, pawing at his pant leg for him to lean down and give him a pat. 

“Yes, hello, good to see you, too,” he said softly, opening his eyes and smiling just slightly through the pain, reaching down with his good hand to pet him on the head. 

“No hello for me, then?” Jon heard to his left, making him jump. “Wow, yeah, you realize just _how_ suspicious you look right now, right?” Georgie continued, walking out of the kitchen and into his line of sight, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Jon just sighed and stood back up straight, trying, and failing, to hide how much he was favoring his arm. “What’s there to be suspicious about?” he asked shakily. 

Georgie just rolled her eyes at him and gave him a pointed look. “Come on, what happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost - don’t even try to make a joke there, I will not hesitate to kick you out of this house. Not to mention you’re holding your arm like you’ve broken it again. Do I have to drive you to the hospital right now?”

If his nerves weren’t on fire, he would’ve laughed at how much it felt like they were back in uni with her just trying to take care of him. “I don’t know. I… How bad of a burn should you go to a doctor over?” he asked carefully.

Jon had to give her credit for not completely losing it on him, but Georgie still needed to take a deep breath and pinch the bridge of her nose. It took a few moments, but she finally looked back at him and silently pointed to the couch. “Sit, I’ll look at it. God, you’re lucky that I can do first aid,” she said, immediately turning on her heel and heading into the bathroom. 

He did as he was told, sitting himself down on his usual spot on the couch and gently pushing the Admiral away when he tried to curl up on his lap. He didn’t have to wait long for Georgie to return, clutching a rather large first aid kit in hand. 

“Show me what happened, then,” she said, staring at him pointedly and using her no-nonsense tone. 

He let out a small sigh and gently pulled up his charred sleeve. The skin just above his palm and all along his wrist was painfully blistered and bright red. He could see the outline of Jude’s fingers wrapping around his wrist, the blisters marking every inch of where she’d touched him. Looking at it for the first time confirmed what he already knew. She had never been aiming for a handshake, she had been aiming to grab directly onto his mark. 

Georgie had let out a gasp of surprise when she saw, but Jon couldn’t pull his eyes away from his mark. He was just glad that he’d finally learned to remember what they said… And that he already knew who said it. 

“Jon, what- how- do I-” she started a few times before just shaking her head and opening the first aid kit, pulling out a tube of antibiotic cream and a roll of bandages. “You’re explaining afterwards,” she said simply, pulling on a pair of gloves and getting to work.

She started close to his palm, applying the ointment and carefully wrapping it tightly with the bandages. She paused, though, when she got to where his mark was covered in fresh blisters. 

“I know you’ve never really cared much for these, but I’m sorry,” she said softly. 

Jon sighed and looked down at them. He got lucky, he supposed. Only the first two words were disfigured, but the rest was still perfectly legible in that curling script. “It’s alright,” he said softly, looking back up at her with a humorless smile. “Did I ever tell you that I found him?” he asked, looking more tired than anything. 

Georgie looked up at him, something sad in her eyes that Jon couldn’t make out. “I’m assuming that you didn’t mention it because you’ve done something I probably wouldn’t approve of?” she asked after a few moments, one eyebrow raised. 

That did manage to get a chuckle out of him. He never understood how she could just read him like an open book. “Something like that, yes.”

She rolled her eyes and looked back down at his arm, slowly starting to apply the ointment and bandages to his arm again. “Did you tell him it was you? Do you know who he is or was it just some bloke in a shop?” 

Jon let out a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. “I… No, I didn’t tell him, but… Well, I think he knows? He… We work together. He’s one of my assistants?” he said quietly, knowing how bad it sounded. 

“Hold on, okay, back up,” she said, finishing up the wrapping before looking back up at him. “So you’re telling me that you work with him every day and you’ve never told him for sure that you’re soulmates?”

Having it spelled out like that just made Jon cringe a little, but he nodded nonetheless. “I… I assume he knows? But.. Well, we met on both of our first days and it was a mess and he very clearly wasn’t even qualified for the job, and well technically neither was I, and I was trying to make a good impression! And… Oh God, Elias probably _knew_ ,” he said, using his good hand to rub at his eyes. “It’s… It’s a long story,” he finished off with lamely. 

Georgie just sighed, pulling off the gloves and crossing her arms. “Start with the soulmate part. We’ll get to whatever the hell else has been going on with your life because you are _not_ getting away without telling me.”

Jon just nodded wearily and looked down at his hands, not knowing if he was grateful for the burns being on his wrist or not. “I… Well, it was the first day of my promotion and I was trying to get started on work and then there was a commotion and I went to check what was happening? And, well, Martin just came out of nowhere and asked _that_ and I didn’t realize. Never really kept track of it, you know? And he didn’t say anything, so I just never… I never realized. Worked together for almost a year and I… Well, looking back on it, he was probably trying to talk to me about it, but I... Well, I did that thing I do and I tried to make it seem like I was a big serious academic. I just wanted to make it seem to everyone that I was actually qualified for the job,” he started, Georgie rolling her eyes a little at the last comment, but just nodding for him to continue. 

“So we worked together for a year and then there was an… incident with quite a lot of worms and-”

“ _Worms?_ ” 

Jon winced a little and sheepishly gestured to the pockmarks on his face and down his arm. “I’ll explain them more another time, but yes… There was an incident with quite a lot of worms that had to be pulled out of me. Anyway, right before I was… attacked by worms, we were unsure of what our fate would be, so he sort of told me about how he was almost certain I’d said his words. To spare you the details of that conversation, basically we were interrupted by the worms trying to break down the wall before I could say anything. Had other things to focus on that day, so I never told him. And then I was in the hospital for almost two weeks and had a lot of time to just…. Think. One of the nurses pointed out how lucky I was that my mark was unharmed. I… Well, _that_ was when it clicked. But…” Jon paused and rubbed at his eyes with his good hand as he tried to think of how to word what he was trying to say.

“There was a possibility that he was a murder suspect? So I couldn’t exactly run up to him and tell him I knew we were soulmates, not when I thought he killed my predecessor. So I didn’t say anything… And when I found out he didn’t kill her, well… There hasn’t exactly been a good opportunity to say anything? He was upset with me, rightfully so, and I’ve been focused on trying to find the real murderer and… I just… didn’t tell him,” he finished, wishing he could just put his face in his hands. Every part of him was exhausted, he didn’t know if he could explain the rest of everything to her.

Georgie sighed and stared at him for a moment before mumbling something under her breath and pulling him into a hug. “You’re such an idiot, Jonathan Sims,” she muttered, making him smile a little. 

“I know I am.” He leaned into the hug, closing his eyes and just letting himself be held for as long as Georgie allowed.

“I really shouldn’t be surprised you’re more of a mess than I am, but here we are,” she said with a small laugh, giving Jon a tight squeeze. 

“What do you mean? Have you found yours?” he asked, grateful to change the course of the conversation away from himself. 

Georgie smiled a little and finally pulled away and back against the couch, letting the Admiral jump up into her lap. “Yeah, few years ago. She’s in the paranormal community and we’ve worked together a few times, even. We’ve talked, though, and back then neither of us really wanted to do anything? I mean, I was with Layla and I was pretty happy and she was really focused on her work and investigating that she didn’t really want a relationship, so we just stayed friends. Worked out, too, she helped me with a couple of episodes of _What the Ghost?_ and I helped a bit with her youtube show. I don’t know, we got drinks together the other night and it was… nice. I just don’t know where we stand anymore, especially since she’s mostly done with youtube and I’m obviously not with Layla… Just confused, really,” she explained, shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head a little. 

Jon gently rested his good hand on her arm. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out before I do,” he said, startling a chuckle out of her. 

“Of course I will, that isn’t the hard part,” she said, gently shoving him. 

Jon just smiled back at her, letting out a sigh that turned into a yawn. 

She nodded and clapped him on the shoulder lightly before gently picking up the Admiral and standing up. “Alright, you get some rest. If that burn gets any worse, I’m taking you right to the hospital. And you’re going to give me a proper explanation for what the _hell_ is going on, alright?” she said sternly, the Admiral meowing after her, as if to emphasize her point. 

“Alright, I promise I will. I might be getting close to clearing things up, even, so I think I’ll even have a good explanation soon. Thank you, Georgie,” he said, giving her a small smile and pushing himself up from the couch, immediately walking towards what had become his bedroom. 

Jon stared up at the ceiling above his bed for a while that night, holding his arm close and thinking about how in the hell he would tell Martin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, yes, jon finally has pulled his head out of his ass, i'm so glad s2 is over. also, please know that i would die for georgie. 
> 
> thank you again for reading!! <3 <3


	14. wool to brave the seasons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning for sad Tim drinking away his feelings

“Now that that’s taken care of, if you’ll give me and Jon a moment alone. I’m sure we have some things to discuss,” Elias said with a polite smile, making Martin’s stomach turn. 

“Yeah,” Daisy agreed, already pushing past everyone to get out the door with Basira close behind. 

Martin just nodded and looked over at Melanie who was still glaring daggers at Elias. “Come on,” he said softly, gesturing for her to follow Tim out. 

They were all silent going back down to the Archives, still in shock over what they just learned. Jon wasn’t a murderer, Elias was, Sasha was long dead, and they were stuck working there for God knew how long… It was a lot to take in. Martin was just about to declare he was making some tea for everyone when he saw Tim immediately grabbing his things once they got back. 

“Tim, wait, where are you going?” Martin asked as the other was reaching for his coat. 

“Where do you  _ think _ I’m going, Martin? Come on, take a wild fucking guess,” he practically snarled back, making Martin flinch a little. 

He nodded and took a deep breath before grabbing his own coat. “I’m coming with you.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Martin, just… Drop it, okay? I’m really not in the mood,” Tim said, spinning on his heel and heading towards the door. Martin saw out of the corner of his eye as the other three slowly moved out of the room, leaving him alone to deal with Tim. 

“No,” he said more confidently this time. “You shouldn’t be alone right now… None of us should, really, but especially not you.”

Tim just snorted at that and continued heading towards the doors. “ _ Especially not me _ , do you hear yourself right now? Basira is the one that just signed the bloody contract, practically giving her life away to this place. Melanie looked like she was about to murder Elias right there. Jon is… a fucking bastard who shows up out of nowhere to drop all this on us. And you… God, I don’t even know where to begin with you. Martin, we’re all a mess. Don’t make this about me.” He took the steps out of the archive two at a time, leaving Martin rushing to keep up as Tim pushed open the front door. 

Martin swallowed hard, running his hand through his hair as he managed to catch up with him, matching his pace as they started walking down the street. “You know what I mean. This isn’t just about the Institute,” he said, just slightly out of breath. 

That got a laugh out of him, but it was hollow, devoid of all humor. “Everything is about the Institute anymore. It all connects back to this fucking place, it always fucking does.” 

“Yes, but… Come on, let’s just go out for drinks again, like we used to,” Martin tried, but it just got Tim laughing again. 

“What? Like we used to back before we knew that  _ thing _ took Sasha? Back before everything started going absolutely batshit? When the biggest issues we dealt with were running out of staples and Jon having a stick up his arse? No, I don’t think we can just go out for drinks and expect it to solve anything. A shit beer and a good cry won’t solve anything. Things aren’t the same anymore, Martin.  _ I’m not the same _ .” That last sentence seemed to be the one that broke the floodgates for Tim, like he hadn’t been expecting himself to say it. He stopped short, leaving Martin needing to spin on his heel to turn around and look back at him. Just as he did so he could see angry tears started welling up in Tim’s eyes and his hands were shaking by his sides. 

“I’m not the same anymore. I… Everything I thought I knew this last year was a fucking  _ lie _ , Martin. I… I can’t-” Tim tried, but cut himself off as he started to get choked up. 

“It’ll b-” Martin started to say, but stopped himself. He couldn’t say that when even he didn’t know if it would be alright. “Just… Let’s go get a drink and sit down,” he said instead, not caring in the slightest that it was barely three in the afternoon.

Tim just let out a shuddering breath, blinking his eyes furiously before letting Martin guide them down the street to the nearest open pub. Once inside, Martin ushered them to a small booth in the back corner and headed to the counter. He contemplated just getting their old usual cheap beers, but decided against it and got them both something stronger. He figured they both needed it. 

He pushed the glass across the table, Tim had the hint of a sour smile as he took it and knocked back half of it almost immediately. 

“Almost a year ago, Martin. She’s been gone for  _ almost a year  _ and I didn’t… When we saw that thing in the tunnels, I didn’t want to believe it was her. Didn’t want to admit it, but… Now we know the truth, ” he said, barely above a whisper. 

Martin just sipped at his drink, the liquor burning his throat as it went down. 

“That  _ thing _ killed her and pretended to be her. It killed her when the whole shit went down with Prentiss. I’m sure of it. That’s the only time we got separated. That’s… That’s when she started to… God,” he let out a shaky breath and rubbed his hands over his face, the edge of his sleeve pulling up a little and revealing his bare forearm. He stared down at it for a moment and that’s when the floodgates finally broke. “My words disappeared that day and I thought it was  _ a coincidence _ . I thought that meant it wasn’t her. That it couldn’t have been her,” he managed to get out. 

Martin tried not to cry thinking about it, pushing himself up from his seat and moving to sit in the booth beside Tim, just like he had almost a year ago. Almost for the same reason, but now with completely different context. 

Even with the hostility, Tim seemed grateful for it and leaned into the hug.

“Can you even remember her? The real her, not that  _ thing _ ,” he managed to get out after a few moments. 

“Of co-” Martin started, but the more he thought about it the more he realized that he could barely put together a concrete image of what Sasha looked like in his head. He tried to pin down a specific feature of hers, but everything in his memory seemed vague. Like her eyes could’ve been a blue-ish, green-ish, hazel color… And her hair was… Long, but not too long. She might’ve been tall? The longer he thought, the more unsure he was. Nothing seemed right. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I can’t either. I can’t even remember her anymore. Everything I remember has been tainted by that  _ thing _ , I can’t even be sure of what’s real,” Tim paused and took a sip of his drink, his voice shaking. “She always joked that she was unforgettable and now- Now I can’t even remember my fucking soulmate. I didn’t even notice she was gone.”

Martin sat there rubbing Tim’s back lightly as a few tears of his own slipping out on their own, mourning his lost friend. It took another five minutes for Tim to calm down enough to down the rest of his whiskey and ask for another one, which the bartender seemed to already have waiting. Martin pushed himself up and walked over to the bar, grabbing the two new drinks with a small nod to the man behind the counter before he sat down in his proper seat again and pushed the glass across the table. 

After another long drink, Tim rubbed at his eyes and tried to stop the tears. “I’m done with this fucking Institute. I’m done with all the shit it’s brought me. I took my job there thinking it could be useful, that it could help me. But no, it’s just made things worse.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but immediately stopped himself and sighed heavily. He hated to admit it, but Tim was right. While at first the job had been great, everything had only gotten worse since he took his position in the Archives. “What are you going to do? We can’t leave,” he said instead, quietly. 

Tim just shrugged, taking a sip of his drink, staring down at the glass. “I dunno. Not what Elias wants me to do, that’s for sure. I don’t care anymore.”

“But what about the work we have to do?” Martin asked before he could stop himself, making Tim snort. 

“What is he going to do? Fire me? If he’s not letting us quit, then I don’t think that’ll happen either. He can just fucking deal with it and leave me the fuck alone,” he said, rolling his eyes. 

Martin sighed a little and finished his first drink, pushing the glass to the side and slowly picking up the second. “I guess, yeah,” he said quietly. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, both sipping at their drinks and trying to rein in their emotions. It got Martin thinking about what was supposed to happen next. Tim wasn’t going to keep working, but… Could he stop, too? And what about Jon, he certainly didn’t seem like he was going to stop. He looked like he’d gone through hell just to be able to come back. Just that burn alone… He tried not to think about it too much, but from what he could see it looked like it covered his words, which made Martin’s stomach turn. 

He ran a fan over his face and took a big drink from his glass, staring down into the amber liquid. At least he could be grateful that Jon was alive and not a murderer. He absently rubbed at his wrist where his words ended, only stopped when Tim tapped on the table. 

Martin shook his head a moment and looked up at Tim, furrowing his brow a little. 

“You get to do anything else about that?” Tim asked, barely tilting his head forward to gesture at Martin’s arm before taking another sip. 

The gesture wasn’t needed, though, as Martin knew the instant he followed Tim’s gaze. “I tr-” he started, but knew that wasn’t what Tim really was asking. “No,” he said slowly, swallowing hard and letting out a shaky breath. “I don’t think it’s really worth it anymore,” he decided on after a few beats of silence. 

“Pretty sure I say this every time we talk about it, but you really do deserve better.”   
  


Martin just shrugged and glanced down at his mark, his eyes tracing over the words for the millionth time. “It’s fine. I… I’ve gotten over it,” he whispered. It hurt to say that and he knew that he wasn’t really fully over it, but… Well, he’d tried everything, hadn’t he? What was he supposed to do now? It was better to just deal with the more pressing matters than to dwell on that.

“Good,” he said simply. “I’m getting another round, you want one?” he asked, glancing at Martin’s completely full second glass.

With a deep breath, Martin downed most of it in one go before nodding up at Tim. “Please. I… I think we could both use it.”

Tim just gave another one of those humorless huffs and nodded, walking towards the bar again. 

Martin could already tell it was going to be a long afternoon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello friends, sorry for making tim sad again. i promise this is the last chapter that focuses on sad tim, just needed some closure with him and the sasha dilemma. hope you all liked it otherwise, though now it's time for me to relisten to season 3 to remember the details of what happened lmao. 
> 
> as always, thanks to pepperpotsnpans for beta reading my shit, don't know what i'd do without her. and thank you for reading <3


	15. gave me blues

Jon worried his bottom lip as he watched Gerard Keay rub at his temples. “I think… I think I’m ready to go,” he said after a moment, glancing back over at Jon. “I’m done… Hide my page and when you’re out of here. Burn it. Please.”

Jon nodded, swallowing hard as he thought about the page he was holding. “I will. Thank you, Gerard,” he said softly.

Gerard paused for a moment and made a somewhat pained look before shaking his head. “Gerry. Gerard is what my mum called me… I- I always wanted my friends to call me Gerry.”

Jon softened a little and nodded, giving him a small smile. “Thank you, Gerry,” he said quietly before glancing down at the page in his hands. “Uh… I dismiss you.”

And with that Gerry disappeared, leaving him once again in an empty room. “Oh,” he breathed out, a little surprised with how abrupt it felt to once again be alone. 

He stared down at Gerry’s page and glanced at the door behind him. He knew he had to call Julia and Trevor soon, they’d get suspicious if he didn’t and sat there in the quiet for long. He took a deep breath and blew it out, folding the book page up and shoving it deep in his pocket, giving Gerry a quiet apology as he did so. He tried not to dwell on what the consequences could be if they found out he’d stolen from them. He’d gotten far too lucky in the last few weeks, especially with the last time he was kidnapped. He couldn’t keep depending on luck, it had to run out sooner or later. 

Jon had so much information swirling around in his mind, but there was no time to unpack any of it with the other two waiting on him, so he took a deep breath and called out, “I’m ready.”

He didn’t have to wait long to hear the footsteps coming down the hallway towards him, Trevor opening the door and glancing quickly between him and the book. “All done?”

Jon nodded, holding the closed book out to him and hoping he didn’t look suspicious or that the book didn’t look any different. “Yeah, I think so.”

Trevor nodded once and took it quickly, turning around and heading back out to the main room of the cabin. “I’ll get it back in the box,” he said, eying Julia for a moment before leaving the two of them. He hoped that their displeasure for the Leitner meant that it would stay in that box for a long time. 

“Did he tell you what you needed?” Julia asked, eying him warily.

Jon huffed and let out a little laugh, shaking his head and rubbing at his eyes. “I don’t… Maybe. He told me a lot.”

Julia just smirked at him, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned up against the wall. “Yes, he tends to do that.”

“I knew most of it, but…” Jon started, trailing off as he let the wave of new information run through his mind for a moment. Everything he learned about the Eye… It made him uneasy. 

“Hearing it all laid out was like a punch to the gut, yeah?” she asked, breaking him out of it for a moment. 

Jon smiled weakly and nodded. “Yeah, something like that.” 

“Need a drink?” she asked, nodding back towards the main room again. 

He rubbed at his eyes again. “Yeah. I think that’d be good. And a cigarette.” 

Julia just chuckled, pushing herself off the wall to stand up to her full height. “He tell you anything useful about the stranger? About stopping The Unknowing and all that?” 

“I think so,” he said, pausing for a moment to add on, “I hope so.”

She hummed and nodded, looking out the door, probably at whatever Trevor was doing in the other room. “So what’s the next move, then?” 

Jon’s eyes widened fractionally and he tried to think quickly; he certainly didn’t want them following him and being close by when they discovered he stole their biggest source of information. “Well, _my_ next move is going back to London, which I think you said would be a problem for you two,” he said, watching closely as Julia just nodded.

“Yeah,” she said, letting him internally breathe a sigh of relief. “Honestly, if this thing is as soon as you think, I’m not sure the two of us could be much help.”

Jon shook his head, trying to put on a smile. “No, it’s alright. You've already done so much more than enough, really.” 

Julia just grinned and looked at the door again. “And you’ve brought us Max Mustermann’s head. We’ll have an awful lot of fun with that. Besides, if you do save the world-” she turned to look at him and Jon cut her off before she could go one.

“We’ll call it even,” he said, meeting her gaze 

She hummed again and chuckled. “More or less,” she agreed, turning as she started to walk out the door to the room. 

“Thank you,” he said, still looking at her. 

She glanced over her shoulder so Jon could see her eyes light up for a moment, giving him a look that made him more than a little uncomfortable. “Just killing monsters, isn’t it?” she asked, in a way that made his stomach roll uncomfortably as he thought of what Gerry said about The Eye and him. 

“Right, yeah. How about you get that drink? I’ll be there in a second, I just… I think I need a moment to sort through some thoughts,” he said, finally picking up the tape recorder and clicking it off.

“Don’t take too long,” she warned simply before walking out, leaving the door ajar behind her. 

Jon nodded and, once he was out of sight, let himself sink to the floor, trying to ignore the headache that’d started to come on from the onslaught of new information about everything. Just thinking about it made his head hurt. He wondered how he was meant to tell the others about it all, or if it was even worth it to do so. Where would he even begin with it? He could already imagine Martin’s face once he heard Jon had been kidnapped… Again. 

He rubbed a little forcefully at his temples and slumped against the wall, pulling up his sleeve a little to look at the words there, something that had started to become a habit for him. He let his finger grace over the words, trailing off as he got to the end where the last few had been burned. It was healed perfectly, especially after the attention Nikola had given his skin, but the scarring there still made him hesitant to touch it.

He remembered Martin’s face when he came back to the Institute after he’d been kidnapped and that awkward conversation. He knew he should’ve said something there, just told him. Martin knew it, too. He could see the hope in his eyes. _It’s not too late, you know. Unless the world ends._ That should’ve been his cue, but he just couldn’t bring himself to say anything. The words had gotten stuck in his throat and he’d just smiled and let Martin go back to work, leaving him looking more disappointed than upset. Why couldn’t he just have said something? What if he had died this time? Did he really want Martin to learn they were soulmates only because his words faded and Jon never returned?

And then that didn’t even begin to cover anything he’d learned from Gerry. He’d had some ideas about the… entities? Fears? Whatever they might be called, he’d begun to suspect there were some greater powers behind everything, but having it all laid out was a lot to take in. He knew about The Eye, but having it explained… It sounded like _he_ could be some kind of avatar of it, one of its followers. And what did that make him? Did that make him a monster? How was he supposed to continue on with everything like normal now, knowing that he was certainly no longer the man he was just a couple years ago.

Jon didn’t want to think about how he was supposed to explain that one to any of his coworkers. They certainly had to suspect something about the entities if everyone had begun reading statements, so maybe that wouldn’t be too shocking to hear, but… To tell them that perhaps he’d become one of the avatars… He couldn’t guarantee they’d all trust him after that. And what would Martin say after that? Would it even matter if they were soulmates if he was some kind of monster? 

All the information Gerry laid out for him only made Jon have even more questions that he couldn’t have the answers to. He hated it like an itch he couldn’t scratch. Which only made that uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach feel worse thinking what that meant in terms of his connection to The Eye. 

Jon sighed deeply and rubbed at his eyes, wondering what his life would be if he hadn’t even accepted the promotion in the first place. Not only would he not be in the mess with Martin, but maybe his life would still be normal. Maybe then he wouldn’t be a monster. 

He’d started to drop down that spiral, but a bang on the door pulled him from his thoughts and he looked up to see Trevor standing in the doorway, staring down at him.

“You gon’ take all night to sulk in here?” he asked, clearly annoyed.

“No, no, I’m coming,” Jon said after taking a moment to calm his racing heart. 

Trevor grunted and gave a nod, eying him up uncomfortably. “Good, don’t want her wasting good beer on you,” he said simply, giving him one last glance over before turning on his heel and leaving from view. 

Jon took that as his cue and pushed himself up off the floor, dusting off his trousers and double checking that Gerry’s page was still in his pocket. It was going to be a long trip back to London. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, shout out to my beta reader for being my copilot and helping me when I get stuck and thank you to all of yall for being along for the ride <3


	16. then purple pink skies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i'm a little late this week, writer's block is a bitch and also my dear copilot is in hell this week with the amount of work she needs to do. much love to my guest beta reader this week jayce (who you can find on twitter @pjkeepsake). love you jayce <3

Martin sighed as he walked towards the breakroom, rubbing at his temples. The stress of it all was certainly starting to get to him and he knew a cup of tea would do him good. Well, and maybe a few painkillers.

He walked down the normally quiet hallway, but stopped short when he heard voices and the sound of that damned tape recorder coming out of document storage. There was once a point in time where he wouldn’t have dared eavesdrop on whatever was happening, bustling off down the hall to just make his tea and let Tim fill him in later, but with everything going on lately he couldn’t find it in himself to keep walking.

“You reading my mind again, boss?” The venom was clear in Tim’s voice, something that has become the norm lately whenever he spoke with Jon, which only concerned Martin more as he shuffled closer to the door.

“No, I’m watching your face. Do you… are you going to keep it together?” Jon answered immediately. Martin swallowed hard and tried not to feel the same worry Jon probably was, that same question had been worrying him lately. He hadn’t dared ask, he couldn’t let his friend, his only friend really, know just how scared he really was.

He heard Tim huff a laugh before he answered, “Look. If you’re worried I’m gonna go all redrum and start hacking up random waxworks, don’t be. I’m not gonna give us away. I want this to work.”

“Thank you,” he whispered under his breath at the same time Jon did.

“But,” Tim started again, making him frown. “I don’t think it will work. So I’m gonna take that axe of yours, and  _ when _ it all goes wrong, I’m going down swinging. And when I do, you’d better take the chance and stay out of my way.”

Martin sighed and closed his eyes, leaning up against the wall a little. He wished Tim wasn’t as predictable as he was, maybe then it would be easier to try and talk him out of things.

“Okay, I’m just…” Jon started to say before sighing, sounding about as tired and worried as Martin felt. “Okay,” he finished just as the tape recorder stopped.

Martin took a couple of steps from the door, but didn’t even try to conceal the fact that he’d been listening. What was the point?

“Tim,” he said as soon as the door opened, which only made Tim roll his eyes and groan. 

“God, can’t I just go five minutes without someone trying to interrogate me?” he asked, spinning on his heel to look over at Martin.

The deep circles under Tim’s eyes looked like bruises and there almost permanent frown on his face. His eyes softened a little when they looked at Martin, but he was still almost unrecognizable from just a few months ago. Martin missed the days when Tim was nothing but smiles and laughs. 

“I’m not here to interrogate you,” he said quietly, making Tim quietly snort. “I just… I just wanted to remind you that you have to come back from this. I…” he paused and tried to smile. “We’ve got plans to go to the pub after, yeah?” he tried. 

Tim gave him a sad look, something of a cross between apologetic and angry, and shook his head. “You, of all people, know why I need to do this, Martin. I… I’ll do what I can, but no one here can stop what might happen,” he said, throwing a pointed look over his shoulder at Jon. 

Matin nodded and finally pulled his eyes away from Tim to look at Jon, only for their eyes to lock for a split second before Jon quickly looked down at the floor, his cheeks flushing slightly. Jon had been looking at  _ him _ that whole time? He furrowed his brow a little and straightened up, pulling his eyes away from Jon to look back at Tim, who was rolling his eyes a little. “I’m not trying to stop you. I just… I want you to be careful. Please?” he asked, doing his best to ignore Jon again. 

Tim glanced between the two of them before letting his gaze rest back on Martin. He couldn’t place the look that Tim gave him, but it was gone before he could even think to ask. “I’ll do what needs to be done,” he said, but the ice that was in his tone with Jon was gone and instead he just sounded tired.

“Without trying to get yourself killed, right?” he asked, worrying the inside of his cheek.

Tim just shrugged, a humorless smile on his face. “I won’t try to, but who the fuck knows what’s going to happen in there when it all goes down. Now, before anyone else can question me, I’m going home,” he finished. Tim clapped a hand on Martin’s shoulder as he walked down the hall and Martin opened his mouth to say something, but decided better and just let himself slump against the wall. 

His head was still pounding and if anything it had only gotten worse. He wished he could just follow Tim out, leave and go back to his own home and pretend that he couldn’t feel Jon’s eyes boring into him.

“I know what’s part of the plan and why he needs to go, but… That isn’t going to stop me thinking this is only going to end poorly. He broke the silence, swallowing hard as his mind raced with all the outcomes of their plan. “Please try to take care of him and make sure he doesn’t get himself killed. I… He’s the only good friend I’ve got left,” Martin finished quietly, finally looking over at Jon. 

The other nodded quickly, managing to force out a weak smile. “Yes, of course. I don’t want anyone getting hurt because of this. I… We can’t lose anyone else,” he agreed, pushing his hair back and clasping his hands in front of him. “I’m going to do the best I can to keep him safe,” he added softly before finally looking down at the floor. 

Martin just nodded and stayed quiet, trying to wrap his head around everything that was about to happen while simultaneously ignoring his pounding skull. Would it really be so bad if he just took Tim’s lead and went home for the day?

“Martin,” Jon said quietly, pulling him out of his thoughts again. “I… Are you okay?” he asked, which made Martin snort. “Sorry, I mean, I know none of us are really fine, but… Well, we haven’t really gotten to properly talk in a while. I know we sort of chatted after I got kidnapped… the first time, that is, but um, well I really wasn’t in the right headspace, and then there was everything that happened in America… I just… I suppose I wanted to make sure you were at least managing okay?” 

The sour smile that came to his face was completely involuntary, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “I guess I’m managing about as well as everyone else right now. Just… You don’t have to worry about me, okay? I’m not going to mess up the plan,” he said, only to have Jon immediately start shaking his head. 

“No, no, that’s… That’s not why I was asking. I just… I know I’ve been quite the prick in the last few- Well, actually I’ve always been quite the prick to you, but… I’m not saying anything right now because I’m worried you’ll mess things up. I…” he rambled, wringing his hands together as he spoke. It made Martin wonder if that was how he acted around Jon in the beginning, nervous and unable to get a complete sentence out. 

“What I’m trying to say is,” Jon started again, his brow furrowed as he tried to find his words. “I’m… worried about how things will turn out after all this and I… I just wanted to make sure you were… Well, really I wanted to try and talk to you about… I wanted to tell you-” 

“Jon,” Martin interrupted, holding up a hand and effectively stopping the other mid-sentence. Jon looked hopeful for a moment and Martin could see him glance at the arm Martin held up, right where his words were. He couldn’t find it in himself to even begin to humor Jon, though. “It’s… It’s fine. I mean, it’s not, but it’s in the past. I… I just want to focus on making sure this plan goes well and that all of you come back alive, yeah?” 

Jon nodded, but his face was still screwed up like he wanted to say more.

“If that’s it, I’m going to go make some tea,” he tried, hoping that would deter Jon from saying anything more. He took a few steps forward, but stopped as a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. 

“Wait Martin, I… There’s something else I wanted to say,” Jon started, looking sheepish as Martin quickly spun on his heel and pulled his arm away, clutching it a bit tightly to his chest.

He opened his mouth to ask what Jon could possibly want, but he didn’t need Jon’s new mind reading powers to know. “Can we not do this right now?” he asked, rubbing at his eyes to try and calm his pounding head. 

“What?” Jon asked and Martin didn’t have to open his eyes to see the crestfallen look on his face. Part of him felt bad, but the other half said it served him right.

Martin opened his eyes and looked back at Jon, seeing just how much of a kicked puppy he looked like. “I’m sorry, but I… I can’t do this right now, okay? There’s… I’ve got too much to focus on, too much to worry about and I just… can’t right now. If you really wanted to talk about this, then you should’ve done it  _ months  _ ago. Fucking  _ years _ ago, really. I just… You don’t just get to try and talk to me about this now that there’s a chance you’re going to die because now  _ you  _ realized the depth of it all. I just… God, you’re so  _ selfish _ ,” he stopped himself, taking a few heaving deep breaths as he realized just how worked up he’d really gotten. He pinched the bridge of his nose and threw his head back, counting to ten as he looked up at the ceiling, praying Jon didn’t try and say something.

“I don’t have the energy to try and go into all this right now, okay? I don’t. We’ve both got so many other things to focus on and you don’t just get to come back after being kidnapped  _ twice _ and not say anything, only to decide that  _ now _ is a good time to finally bring it up,” he began again, finally looking back over at Jon and making eye contact with him. He looked about as surprised as Martin felt, but also looked like he might be close to tears. Or about as close as he’d ever seen Jon get. He didn’t let that stop him from pushing forward, though. He needed to stand his ground. “If you really want to talk about this, then… Then just come back. Come back and then maybe we can talk and you can finally stop being such an ass. Until then just focus on staying alive.”

The pounding in his head had gotten exponentially worse, but as upset as he was he couldn’t bring himself to just storm off.

“I… Of course,” Jon finally said after a few moments, straightening up and sniffing a little. “My apologies for… for being so selfish. I understand. I…” he looked like he wanted to say more, like there were a million things running through his head, but instead he just shook it slightly and cleared his throat. “Enjoy your tea,” he added before swiftly turning on his heel and walking down the hall. 

Martin watched as he went, not looking back once as he went into his office and shut the door behind him, the lock clicking loudly in the empty hallway. At the sound, Martin let his shoulders slump and he rubbed at his eyes. 

“Oh, screw this,” he whispered to himself, unable to push past his headache anymore. It wasn’t like he could get fired for leaving early. 

He went back to his desk and grabbed his things before heading out of the building, only sparing a moment’s glance at Jon’s office as he went. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, friends. as always, kudos and comments are much appreciated! my posting should go back to normal next week with either saturday or sunday <3


	17. one single thread of gold

“So, I guess… sometime in the next few days, I go on a commando mission to blow up a wax museum. It’s… not exactly what I was expecting from an archiving job,” Jon said to the lifeless tape recording, giving a humorless huff and a shake of his head. “I… I do worry about Martin and Melanie, and leaving them behind with… But, well, I suppose that’s part of trusting someone, isn’t it? Letting them help how they can,” he finished, closing his eyes as he heard the scrape of a chair just outside his office. There were still so many thoughts rushing through his mind, the thought of Leitner’s body coming up, but he felt that he needed to say something more before he went on… Address things the one way he could right now. 

“I… Martin. I hope that if something goes wrong you will be listening to these. Maybe I’ll leave this one to you, so you can hear it if I… Well, you know. I hope it won’t come to that, but it’s always best to plan for the worst and hope for the best, isn’t it?” he swallowed hard, rubbing at his eyes. 

“I should start off with an apology. You… You were right. You’ve always been right, I was just too… stupid? scared? pigheaded? to see it. You’re right, it was selfish of me to only try to talk about everything now that I am the one in danger. I’m sorry. I’m still going to do my best to come back, of course, so we can finally talk, but… I suppose if things do go wrong you’ll be the first to know. And well, if that does happen I’m so, so sorry.”

The thoughts were still racing through his head, so quickly that it was hard for him to find his train of thought. “There have been a hundred opportunities for me to say something, especially when you’ve prompted me and tried to coax me into it by making even more chances and I… I was scared and confused and I know that’s not an excuse, but I want to give you an explanation. I…” he paused and took a deep breath, trying to speak slowly to get all the words out right. “You were right. Of course you were. And I think you know that already. Probably have known it for a while, you were just waiting on me to pull my head out of my ass.” The noise he made after that was more an emotional outburst than a real laugh as he tried to make sense of his own thoughts. 

“After Prentiss attacked I had to go to the hospital, obviously. Had to have all those worms pulled out of me one by one. Almost wished I had your corkscrew, would’ve made it a lot easier. As the nurse was pulling them out she commented that I was lucky, my mark was untouched by the worms. At first I was annoyed that she dared to call me lucky, what with the dozens of worms in me, but it… It got me to really pay attention to those words for the first time in years. And you were right. _Hey sorry; you haven’t seen a dog, have you?_ ” as he said them he pulled up his sleeve slightly, his finger brushing over each word lightly, barely touching Martin’s neat script.

“Who else could it possibly be? But… But I had to go and be a paranoid idiot instead of telling you. I had to go and accuse you of _lying_ about them because I was just so _scared_ of what might happen. And then there was the whole murder of Leitner in my office and…” he stopped and took another deep breath, scrubbing at his face with his hands. 

“And I didn’t appreciate them enough and now they’re burned and scarred and I can’t even read the end anymore. She’d been aiming for it, of course. Jude was. I really should’ve expected as much. I’d been prepared to have my hand burned, readied myself for it and then… She tricked me. Burned what she thought would hurt me worse. And I know it hurt you, too. Maybe not the physical pain, but… I don’t need to read minds to know it hurt you.”

Jon shifted in his chair, cradling his arm in his lap as he stared down at the words there. “I’m sorry. I failed you by not even properly telling you that you were right. We were- We _are_ soulmates. I hope that you never need to hear this tape, but… But if you do, then at least you’ll be able to have some closure.”

With that he clicked off the tape, rubbing at his eyes and willing himself to not get emotional. He was going to come back. He had to. For Martin.

* * *

“I just really hope everyone makes it back,” Martin said quietly to the tape recorder, letting out a long breath. “And I want to win on my own,” he added, trying to stay positive despite everything.

He wished he could say it felt odd talking to the tape recorder, but it wasn’t. It felt nice. Cathartic, really. Even when he knew Jon would hear it eventually. Perhaps it was cathartic _especially_ since he knew Jon would hear it.

“I hope the world doesn’t end, obviously,” he tacked on, looking down at his hands. “Just… just don’t _die,_ Jon. Or, or Tim, Basira, or… Daisy, I guess? Just… can everyone please make it back home,” he tried not to sound like he was addressing Jon directly, but he knew how his whole statement read. Lately anytime a tape recorder was placed in front of him he spoke to it like Jon was on the other end, listening to him speak.

Martin sighed and stared at the recorder, contemplating turning it off before pushing himself to say what was on his mind. “Jon, I know you’re probably listening to this on the way to the thing or… I don’t know, maybe after on your way back because you _are_ coming back, but I just… I’m not going to apologize for what I said, but I want you to know that I do want to talk. I mean, I’m almost completely certain I know what you’re going to tell me, but… We still need to talk,” he started slowly, running his hand through his hair. 

“I’m not going to spill it all here because I refuse to even consider that you won’t come back, but well, we already know that we’re soulmates. That you’ve got whatever stupid phrase I said that day, something about a dog. Which, god, no wonder you did your best to forget about it,” he said with a little laugh, trying to lighten the mood for himself. “But I mean… You ignoring it and intentionally not telling me after everything… Well, that really hurt, you know? And things can’t just be fine and dandy _when_ you come back. I… I want to be with someone who actually cares about me, you know? And I know you’ve been getting better, but this isn’t something that’ll change overnight. I just… I need you to accept that. I need you to actually _try_ and try _harder_. I know things are terrifying right now and that it seems like you can’t trust anyone, but you _can_ trust me. You’ve always been able to trust me, whether you knew it or not.”

He sighed again and leaned back in the chair, thinking over everything again. “I am terrified right now about everything, but I’m also determined that it is going to work. I’m going to make it out of this and… And so are you. And Tim. And Daisy. And Melanie. And Basira… Everyone is. We’re going to win. And after we win… Then we’ll be able to talk and… And work everything out. That’ll be the easy stuff, yeah?” 

* * *

Jon sighed as he finished wrapping everything up, watching the last of Gerry’s page burn before he clicked the tape recorder off. He swallowed hard and popped the tape out, scribbling his name and the date on the label with a bit of finality. Of course, he planned on bringing the recorder with them, he figured one would probably turn up regardless, but… Well, something felt different about this recording. It was going to be his last one before they left and, regardless of the outcome, he knew that if he came back he’d be different. Everything would probably be different. 

He ran a hand through his hair and stared up at the ceiling, trying his best to collect his thoughts. It was as if there was an ocean crashing up against all sides of his mind and all he could do was try and wade through it. He had no idea how long he sat there, but a knock at the door startled him back to reality. 

“Come in,” he said quietly, blinking a few times to bring his focus back. 

The door opened slowly and Martin stepped in, holding a cup of tea out like a peace offering with a weak smile on his face. “Thought you could use one last cuppa?” he offered, making Jon smile. 

“I’d love that, thank you. It’s… Well, suppose it’s been a long few days,” he said, reaching across the desk to take the cup, letting their fingers brush lightly before Martin abruptly pulled away, leaving Jon doing his best not to react. 

“Yeah, it definitely has,” Martin agreed, looking pointedly down at the floor. 

Neither of them made any move to leave, letting the awkward silence stew for a few moments. Jon knew he would have to be the one to say something. Martin had said his peace, of course. But… What was he supposed to say? 

“I should be goin-” Martin started at the same time as Jon said, “Martin, I-”

Martin looked up, finally meeting his eyes and Jon could see him building up a wall around himself as his eyes hardened. 

“Martin, I’m not trying to bring up that conversation again. You were right, of course. I… I was selfish. I just… I wanted to say one last thing and give you something before I left, though, if you’ll let me,” he started slowly, watching the other’s face carefully. 

He stayed quiet, watching as Martin’s jaw clenched and unclenched a few times before he gave the curtest of nods. “Go ahead, then. “

With Martin’s permittance, Jon looked down at the cup of tea in his hands and collected his thoughts. “I’m sorry. I won’t give explanations or anything, I… I hope that we will be able to talk about everything in depth when I return, but…” he trailed off for a moment and Martin opened his mouth to try and say something, but Jon managed to collect himself before he could say anything. 

“ _But_ if anything does happen,” he continued, taking the tape he’d just labeled off his desk and holding it out to Martin, making eye contact with him now. “I want you to listen to this. If I come back, you can give it right back to me and forget about it, but… I want you to have this just in case,” he said, doing his best to hold all of his emotions behind the dam he’d built inside his mind as they stared at each other. “Please.”

Martin looked like he wanted to protest, but he snapped his jaw shut and swallowed hard. They stayed there for a few moments, Jon looking up at Martin and hoping- praying to every deity he knew didn’t exist that he would accept. 

“ _When_ you come back,” he started, looking down at the tape and then back up so they met eyes. “I will return it to you. And you’re going to come back,” he said finally, taking a few steps forward and taking the tape from his hands. 

Their fingers brushed for a second time, but this time it was Martin who initiated it, before pulling his hand away just as fast. He held the tape close to his chest, his hand shaking just slightly. 

Jon just nodded and managed a small, hopeful smile. “ _When_ I come back, I’ll be happy to take it back,” he agreed, watching as the corners of Martin’s mouth perked up a little.

“Good… And my tape, you can listen to that, too… Either before everything or after, when you’re on your way back. I mean, I kind of figured you’d listen to it eventually, but… I’m giving you permission to,” Martin replied, straightening his posture a little bit and dropping his hand to his side. 

He smiled a little wider and nodded, already itching to listen to what Martin said to him and feeling the slightest warmth bloom in his chest at the idea that Martin had had the same idea he did. Just in case. “Thank you. I will. But… We can have the full conversation if- _when_ I get back,” he said finally and Martin nodded tersely in agreement. 

Martin let out a deep breath and went to turn around, but stopped himself mid-turn. “I look forward to talking when you get back,” he said over his shoulder with a hopeful smile of his own before quickly turning fully and walking out of the room, letting the door click close behind him without a moment to lose. 

Jon smiled at the closed door and dropped his head into his hands to calm his shaky breath. “Me too, Martin. I hope we get to.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, next chapter is The Emotional Chapter, I didn't plan to have 3 chapters take place so close together plot-wise, but I fudged with my plan a little and this was how the cards fell. Hope you like it, though! Also, almost forgot, shout out to my beta reader @pepperpotsnpans who is back in the saddle this week As always thanks for reading! <3


	18. tied me to you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> going to start this one with just a big ol apology. I didn't plan for it to be this angsty, but here we are.
> 
> content warnings for this chapter: canon events of 118, description of a panic attack

“Hm, sorry. Looks like it wants to know what’s going on,” Martin said, watching as the tape recorder clicked back on after Elias tried to shut it off, the tape winding away slowly. 

“What a pity. You know Jon listens to all these,” Elias said offhandedly, glancing back up at Martin with a sly smile on his face, like he had a secret that he’d soon be sharing. 

Martin just rolled his eyes. “What, you don’t want him hearing your big evil speech, then?” he asked, just making his boss smile wider. 

“No. Simply wanted to spare you your dignity. Although, do you really have much after that tape that you left for him to listen to.”

Martin grit his teeth and laughed humorlessly. “ _Dignity?_ Right, yeah. Like the dignity of being trapped in your flat by worms or sleeping in the Archives with a corkscrew clutched to your chest or fetching drinks for the _monster_ that murdered your friend while you’re none the wiser. And of course having your soulm-” he cut himself off at the last one, letting out a shaky breath. He wasn’t about to let Elias pull his insecurities out of him that easily. 

Elias just smirked wider as he inspected his nails. It made Martin’s blood boil. “Are you done?”

“ _No_ , I’m _not!_ Not even _close_. I- I’ve been thinking. You’ve obviously been able to do this all-seeing thing for a while. Had it the whole time, didn’t you?. I remember the way you looked at Sasha after the worm attack. You _knew_ it wasn’t her. And I think you probably knew about Prentiss, too. But you did nothing. Why?” he asked, chest heaving a little from how tense he was. He waited for a moment, his temper starting to rise again as Elias just continued to stare down at his nails, completely disinterested. “ _Why?_ ” he asked again, slamming his hands down on the desk.

Still, Elias just rolled his eyes. “Let’s just get this over with, shall we?” 

Martin huffed a laugh and shook his head. “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, trying to reel it back in a little. “What, like with Melanie? Just that _perfect_ bit of information to leave me a wreck?” 

Elias stood up straighter and finally looked up again, fixing his gaze on Martin. “Yes,” he said simply, his grin widening to fill his face.

Being under the scrutiny of those eyes made his skin crawl. He wanted nothing more than to cower, to curl up in a ball and beg for him not to, but he held his ground. Martin stood up straighter and held his chin up high, trying to harden his eyes to hide the fear behind them. “Well, I hope you’ve got something better than that pathetic dig at my feelings for Jon,” he taunted. 

Elias just smirked again and shook his head, chuckling lightly. “You know, it’s baffling, really. You’ve really always had so much loyalty to the man who treated you so poorly. Even from the start, before you were even certain about being his soulmate, you were so astonishingly loyal to him. I know that you believe soulmates are important, but _really_ , Martin?”

Martin knew he was only saying it to get in his head and swallowed hard, bracing himself further and glaring back at him. “What is that supposed to be? A revelation? So what, I’ve been loyal to him.”

He just shook his head, that stupid smirk still on his face. “Really, I should have gone for that. All I’d have needed to do was put in a bit of work to find something that would finally manage to shatter that precious image you have of him. Wouldn’t have been all that hard, really. I can’t believe you’d still want someone that’s known for so long about your _special little bond_ and hasn’t spoken a word of it to you. Hm, he’s certainly given me _plenty_ of material work with. But, as you say, I am _very_ busy at the moment, which means I hardly have the time to sift through it all. I suppose I’ll just have to go with what I had prepared.”

* * *

The sun was just beginning to set when Martin finally got home after planning what to do next with Melanie. They’d agreed on going their separate ways until either of them heard back from any of the others. There wasn’t much they could do while sitting around anyway, so at least they could get comfortable during their wait. It made Martin nervous, going home to wait alone in his flat for any word, but he couldn’t argue that Melanie was right. There was nothing left for them to do and he wasn’t about to invite himself over to wait with her. So he returned home to his tiny flat and prepared to wait. 

Part of him wanted to celebrate the fact that he and Melanie had done it. His pain had been worth it, they’d gotten what they’d needed from Elias’s office and as soon as everyone was back part two of their plan could properly commence, but… The other part of him didn’t want to celebrate until he knew for sure that everyone was coming back. He needed to hear word from Jon. Martin pulled up his sleeve not for the first time that day and let out a soft sigh of relief when he still saw Jon’s messy scrawl still there on his arm, just as it had been for years. 

“They’re going to be okay. _He’s_ going to be okay,” he murmured to himself, rubbing gently at his arm. He couldn’t get what Elias had said out of his head. Of course the bastard had known from the start about them. He probably orchestrated their whole meeting, started the long con ages before their promotions to the Archives. It made Martin’s blood boil just thinking about it, he wished he could do something about it, but he just has to remind himself that Elias would be in jail eventually and all would be right.

In an attempt to clear his head, Martin headed into the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. Tea would help. Tea always helped. As he waited, he pulled out his phone, sighing as he saw the lack of notifications. They’d text when they got out, right? Tim would and Jon… Well, it seemed like the logical thing to do and Jon was usually all about logic. Still, it had been a few hours and he would’ve expected a text by then… 

He shooed away all the possible what-ifs, not wanting to dwell too long on any of it. It wasn’t productive. He wandered the flat, pacing back and forth as he numbly scrolled through his phone, barely even paying attention to anything at all. It wasn’t until the kettle clicked off that he was pulled from his trance. Tea. 

Martin went through the motions of making a cup, trying to put most of his focus on the task. If he focused on the tea, maybe then he would stop running through all the bad outcomes in his head. They _had_ to be okay. Everything had been planned out to the last detail. Daisy knew what she was doing with the explosives and everyone had been on the same page. Everything would be fine, he told himself, pulling up his sleeve again to see his words still where they’d always been. 

He breathed out a soft sigh and told himself that Jon or Tim would text him soon. He was probably overreacting, they did have to get out of the way of a major explosion, after all. It made sense that it might take a little while. 

He finished making his tea and took a sip of it, ignoring the pain as he burned his mouth. At least it gave him something to focus on. “Come on, Jon,” he whispered to himself, slowly making his way back into the living room to sit down. 

Flicking on the television, he flipped through the channels until he got the nightly news headlines. He zoned in and out for a bit, just sipping tea and pretending to listen to what the reporters were saying as they babbled on about something or another. Nothing that really felt important, though. Not with what he was learning of the world. It wasn’t until the screen flashed with breaking news that he was pulled back to awareness. 

“Breaking News, there have been reports of a major explosion in what was once the House of Wax museum in Great Yarmouth. As of now it’s unclear if there was anyone inside, but we will update you as the story unfolds.” The woman kept speaking and a shaky phone camera video played of the building up in flames, but Martin wasn’t listening. He felt the small bubble of joy make its way through him followed very closely by dread. His phone still hadn’t gone off. 

“Please. Please, Jon. You… You have to make it back,” he whispered to himself, closing his eyes tightly as played with the end of his sleeve. He needed to check. He needed to know, but… Everything in him was screaming otherwise. All the what-ifs were back and in full force, taunting him. The reporter hadn’t said anything about casualties, but… But that didn’t mean there weren’t. 

“He said he would try and come back,” he said softly to himself, slowly pulling up his sleeve while keeping his eyes squeezed shut. “He’s supposed to come back.”

With that, Martin opened his eyes and looked down at his arm. 

In the last few months since Jon had been kidnapped twice and almost murdered a few times, Martin had begun to wonder what would happen if he one day woke up and saw that the words on his arm had vanished. How would he react? What would he do? With the task of stopping the Unknowing, he hadn’t let his mind linger on those thoughts for too long. This wasn’t something to be pessimistic about, he needed to think positively. He needed to believe that they would come back because if he didn’t, then who would? All of that was to say, he had been wholly unprepared when he looked down at his arm and saw, for the first time in twenty-eight years, that his arm was blank. 

Martin was lucky that he was already sitting down because it felt like all the wind had been knocked out of him as he stared in shock down at his arm. “ _No,_ ” he whispered softly, feeling bile rise in the back of his throat. 

“No, no this can’t be happening,” he continued, quickly standing up and almost knocking over his chair in the process. It felt like the world was moving in slow motion and too fast all at once, the room coming in and out of focus as he blinked down at his arm, hoping that the next time he opened his eyes he might see something different. “You were supposed to come back,” he whispered, doing his best to keep his breathing even. 

Everything in his body was telling him to curl up into a ball, to cry, to scream, to hyperventilate. But he couldn’t do any of that. Not yet. 

Martin took a few deep, steadying breaths and grabbed his phone. He rubbed at his eyes and started walking back toward the door as he dialed Melanie’s number and grabbed his keys. 

“Come on, pick _up_ ,” he mumbled as the phone started to ring, stepping outside and taking a few moments to calm his shaking hand in order to lock the door behind him. 

“Martin, what is it? We just lef-” Melanie started, but Martin cut her off almost immediately. 

“We need to go to the wax museum. _Now_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright, ending this with yet another apology. Thanks for reading, we're in the home stretch now, friends, season 4 here we come. As always, much love to my dear beta reader for this. Please leave a kudos or a comment if you're liking it. Love you all <3


	19. time, mystical time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Sorry for not chapter last week, I really wasn't feeling writing and I didn't want to half ass something last minute. Also, I just adopted a cat, so I was very busy lol. (If anyone wants pictures of him, please message me on either discord or tumblr, I will absolutely send pics of him). Anyway, promise I haven't forgotten about this and sometime in the upcoming weeks you'll get two chapters instead of one, that way I'll still finish this before the finale of magnus drops. 
> 
> cw: hospitals, panic attack

“End recording, I suppose,” Jon sighed as he clicked off the tape recorder and rubbed at his eyes. 

Six months. He’d been in a coma for six months. So much had happened and he didn’t even know where to begin. The last thing he remembered was the dancing, the music blaring in his ears, and then… Then there was the pain, the blast, the vague sound of sirens. And then nothing until he woke up. 

Tim. Tim was dead. He had to have gotten the detonator, then, in the chaos of it. Jon remembered everything going foggy and he’d given it up at some point, but then… He hated that his memories didn’t line up, but he supposed it didn’t matter. That was months ago, everyone else had already grieved, started to move on. He did his best to blink back his emotions and push it all down. He knew that if anyone wasn’t going to make it out that night it would’ve been Tim, he’d gone in prepared to go down fighting. Jon tried not to feel guilty. 

But Daisy… He hadn’t expected to hear that she hadn’t come back. She’d been so prepared, so ready. And they hadn’t found her? The thought made him sick, like something else probably happened to her in there. And Basira… He didn’t want to think about how she was feeling about all that, they were partners after all. She’d been the only one to make it out in one piece. 

Jon shook his head, trying to get himself to stop thinking about all the negatives for now. It wouldn’t do him any good to spiral like that. Not now anyway, not when Basira would be coming back soon and likely with a nurse. 

He let his mind wander to try and find the positives. Elias was in jail. That was… Good? It meant their plan had worked, right? That meant things should’ve been better? But Basira made it seem like there was a different kind of problem now. One with the new director, Peter Lukas… He remembered that name in the statements. Avatar of the Lonely. There was no telling what he might’ve been doing to the Institute, how he was running things. And then… 

Martin. 

Jon let out a shaky breath and looked up at the ceiling. He’d told Martin he’d come back. They were supposed to talk when he came back. Martin had been waiting for him.

He blinked hard and looked down, gently moving some of the tubes and wires that seemed to be attached to him everywhere and lifting his arm. He let out a sigh of relief as he saw the words still running down his arm. He traced his finger over the curling script, something that had started to bring him some comfort before everything happened. He’d wondered if Martin had done the same while he was in the coma, or if… 

Jon’s eyes widened as the thought crossed his mind. Had Martin’s mark even stayed? This hadn’t been a completely normal coma, he knew that. He should’ve died like Tim. Did he die? Was the only reason he was alive right now because some fear god wanted him to be? The thought of Martin losing his mark made his stomach turn, especially since that would mean Martin had listened to the tape he’d left. He must’ve. That was the only thing he’d asked that Martin do if something like this happened. 

He knew now. With complete certainty. Martin had heard Jon lay it all out on the table and had thought that Jon would never come back. That he was dead or in a medical anomaly coma, probably never to wake up. 

And then… And then he started working with Peter Lukas, an avatar of the Lonely. 

It wasn’t until his hospital room door opened that he realized he was breathing fast and his eyes had widened as everything started to hit him. 

“What’s your problem?” Basira asked, holding a cup of water in one hand while a nurse sped past her and over to him.

She started asking all sorts of questions. Nothing was making sense and his head was spinning. He tried to pull away, but she just kept asking more and more. He couldn’t even begin to focus. How could you as he realized just how big of a mess he’d woken up into?

Basira noticed it, probably saw the panic in his eyes. Unlike the nurse, she knew it wasn’t from him just waking up after six months. 

“Ma’am, excuse me,” she said cooly, walking over to his bed. He could focus on her voice, it was familiar, grounding even. “He’d asked for a glass of water before and I think his throat is a little dry from the whole not using it in a few months. Just give him a second to clear his head, I think-” she looked at him for a second and he tried to smile at her while his heart still raced. “I think it’s all just been a lot for him,” she lied, holding out the little cup to him. 

Jon did his best to calm his slightly shaky hands and quickly took a sip of water, trying to focus on the sensation of it going down his throat. She had been right, his throat did hurt, especially after he’d just read out the whole statement right when he woke up. It’d helped him feel alive again, but it hadn’t helped wake all of his unused muscles. 

He took a couple more small sips of water, focusing on the feeling of it and doing his best to even out his breathing again until finally he came back into awareness enough to fully acknowledge the nurse that was hovering nervously beside him. 

“Thank you,” he said a little shakily, giving a small smile to Basira who gave a small shake of her head and moved to sit down in the visitor’s chair closest to the door. 

With more awareness this time, and the nurse talking a little slower, he went through all of her questions. He did his best to answer what he could, intentionally leaving out that he felt as if nothing had happened. It would hardly make sense to her if he said he felt stronger just by reading a statement. He didn’t think the nurse would understand, nor would she believe him. 

She went on for a few minutes as she checked all his vitals and did a few tests, scribbling furiously on her notepad before announcing that she would get the doctor to come see him. With that, she rushed out of the room, leaving him alone with Basira again. 

  
  


“What was that all about?” Basira asked once the door was closed, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Jon let out a deep breath and closed his eyes, shaking his head. “Nothing, sorry… Thank you for that, though,” he tried brushing it off, but Basira just snorted. 

“Bullshit. You looked like you were in the middle of some panic attack. I left barely ten minutes ago, what happened? Was someone here?” she asked. He could hear the scrape of the chair as she stood up and started walking towards him. 

“No, no. Nothing like that. It was just… It’s stupid. Everything is fine. Just… Thinking about things got me worked up, I guess.” He opened his eyes again and looked up at her. He’d expected an eye roll out of her, but she just nodded. 

“Makes sense. You missed a lot, six months is a long time,” she said slowly, giving him a bit of a funny look. “What tipped you over the edge, then?”

Jon huffed a laugh and just weakly pulled his arm closer to his chest. “Just… Got thinking about a bunch of stuff having to do with my soulmate, I guess. I had to have been in a rough shape, what with being half dead. Got thinking about what that meant for him…” he trailed off. He really didn’t have any idea why he was just telling Basira all of this, but it wasn’t like there was anyone else he could talk to and before… Before, he was trying to work on trusting people more. And she had asked, after all. 

Basira just hummed and leaned up against the wall. “Know who he is? Or just thinking how they might be feeling?” 

He laughed again at that, but the sound held no joy. “I know who it is,” he said simply, not really sure if he wanted to tell her everything. It wasn’t exactly his whole secret to tell. 

“Hm, does he know that you’re his? Or about any of the whole spooky lifestyle you run?” she asked, not even bothering to press more about the fine details. 

“I… Yes. He knows about all of it,” Jon answered, unsure where she was going with this. 

“And are you two together? Or… I don’t know, have you talked about things?” she continued. 

Jon had to admit that he felt uncomfortable being on the receiving end of her interrogation. He could tell why she made a good cop. “No. I… I’d left him a tape. For if I didn’t come back. But, well, we never really got to talk. There was never a good time.”

Something about Basira’s face changed, like he’d given her a missing piece to the puzzle, but she didn’t say anything about it. “Waiting out for the perfect moment to say something?” she asked tightly.

“Well, I guess?” he answered hesitantly. 

Basira rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Take my advice. Talk the first moment you can. All that shit about needing a perfect moment is rubbish anyway.”

“What?” Jon asked, taken back a little. 

“You heard me. You may have been in a coma, but I know your ears are working just fine. Take the first opportunity you get. Who knows if it’ll be your last, especially with the shit job we have,” she said simply.

Jon opened his mouth to say something, but closed it as he glanced down at his arm. The writing there seemed almost like it had faded since he last saw it six months ago, but maybe that was him misremembering. “Is that advice from experience?” he asked carefully. 

She laughed, making Jon glance up at her again in surprise. “No. Been without mine for a long time. Can’t even remember when I lost it.” Basira shrugged and pushed herself off the wall. “Doesn’t matter about me, though. I’m telling you that there is never going to be the  _ perfect _ time to bring it up, especially if you didn't say anything the moment it happened. You just have to take the first opportunity that comes your way.”

Jon stared down at his arm, unsure of what else to say. Basira seemed to understand, though, as she nodded and moved back to her seat. 

“It doesn’t seem like things are going to get better, Jon. You’re lucky to be alive.”

He just nodded, taking everything in. She was right. Just as he gathered his thoughts enough to say something, the door to his room swung open and the nurse came in, followed by two doctors, effectively cutting him off. He sent a look over to Basira, who just nodded before he turned his full attention to the doctors. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! As always, thanks to my beta reader @pepperpotsnpans. <3


	20. then healing me fine

Martin dropped his coat as he walked inside his flat, not caring where it fell. He kicked off his shoes as he closed the door, clicking the lock as he did so. A habit he’d picked up after the Prentiss incident. 

Tea. Tea would make things better. Tea always warmed him up after a full day of working with Peter Lukas. He wished he could say he hated it. Hated the coldness and the fog that came with just being around him, but there was a small part of him that loved it. That small part of him felt at home in the loneliness and, if anything, that was what he hated. 

Still, he was doing what needed to be done. That’s what he kept telling himself. He was still trying to hold out hope that Jon might come back. That he might one day wake up, but… It’d been months without a single sign. He stopped going ages ago, not long after his mum died. Couldn’t take it anymore. He’d played the tape every time he went, hoping that maybe the recorder might do something to wake him up. That maybe then they could talk, but it all seemed for nothing. He couldn’t keep torturing himself like that. 

So he stopped going. That last visit had been the most painful, he thought. Weeping in the stupid hospital room, listening to that tape play, and then even recording himself. He’d left the tape for Jon, thought maybe it might trigger something to get him to wake up. But it didn’t matter. That day he’d made his decision to help Peter Lukas with whatever plan he had. Cutting himself off from everyone made it easier, really. Less emotions to worry about that way and less people to grieve if something bad happened. When something bad happened. 

Martin stepped into the kitchen and filled up the kettle before flicking it on. Tea always did make him feel better. A nice steaming cup with just a little bit of sugar, it warmed him all the way to his core. Made things easier, even when he was younger. It was the best fix to some of his problems. The ones that could be fixed, at least. 

He got down a cup and the teabags, dropping one in before he grabbed the sugar dish. Just the whole process of making the tea was enough to start to relax him. It was nice, really. Methodical. Gave his mind something simple to focus on so it didn’t run off the rails worrying about something or another. He did enough worrying for a lifetime. 

When the kettle clicked off, he slowly poured the hot water into the cup and let the bag steep as he spooned in the sugar. 

It’d been far too long of a day in the office. He hated it. It wasn’t like the work was hard. Peter didn’t have him doing anything too difficult, but it was all just so tedious. The man had no idea what he was doing running the Institute and he seemed to expect Martin to understand. It made him wonder why in the hell Elias had left Peter as the second in charge.

He breathed out and tried to let go of all his stress from work. He was home now, he wasn’t allowed to think about it much. And he was stopping himself from thinking about the “lonely exercises” Peter had given him. He knew what he was playing with, he wasn’t stupid. It was dangerous and… And there was a good chance it would get him killed, but at least it would save anyone else from having to deal with it.

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. 

After a few minutes, Martin fished the teabag out of his tea and picked up his cup, walking toward his favorite chair. A bit of mindless television would probably do him good and give his mind something to focus on. Maybe then he could stop thinking about work or Peter or Jon or anything else.

Of course, nothing could go his way, though. 

Martin sat down in his chair and was about to take a sip when his eye caught something. He’d taken to wearing long sleeves more often, buttoned tightly at the cuff. Less likely to feel that pain all over again. But looking down at his wrist, he saw the trace of something. It could’ve been nothing, just a stray pen mark from when he was filling out paperwork, but seeing it made him drop his cup. 

The tea spilled everywhere all over the floor. Did the mug shatter? He couldn’t tell, all his focus was on his arm. His hands trembled as he looked down at it. He’d spent years staring down at that mark. Spent years tracing it over with his hand and dreaming about the day he would meet his soulmate. He knew that the mark there wasn’t just a blemish that he could wash away. 

He moved his other hand slowly, reaching out to unbutton his cuff. He paused before he could roll it back, needing to take a moment to catch his breath and prepare himself. Despite everything in him telling him that he was right, that his mark was back, that Jon was  _ alive _ , he needed to prepare himself for the opposite. He tried to quash down a bit of that hope, praying he wasn’t being too optimistic. He wanted it to be real so badly that he didn’t know how he would be able to cope if it wasn’t.

After what felt like an eternity of staring down at his arm, Martin finally gathered the strength to roll up his sleeve. He looked away as he did so, rolling it up just past his elbow, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. Better to wait to see if the whole mark was back.

It wasn’t unprecedented for someone to lose their words and then have them return. Sometimes people died and then were able to be brought back, it wasn’t uncommon. But he didn’t think anyone had ever lost theirs for so long and then had it come back. Six months really was an incredibly long time. 

Martin let out a shaky breath, preparing himself for the worst but quietly hoping for the best. Once he finally felt ready, he blinked his eyes open and glanced down at his arm. 

The sight immediately brought tears to his eyes.  _ I’m sorry, what? In general, or?  _

Martin choked on the sob in his throat, smiling for what felt like the first time in six months. They were back. They were really finally back. And more importantly, Jon was  _ alive _ . He was awake and alive and would hopefully be okay. 

He laughed through the tears, not even caring that he’d spilled tea all over the place. His soulmate was  _ alive _ . Martin used his other hand to rub at his eyes, refusing to move his other arm and let the words drop from his sight. 

Who knows how long he sat there, staring at them. The relief just kept washing over him in waves, helping him forget everything that had been worrying him. There was only one thought running through his head.  _ Jon is alive.  _

Once his tears had stopped, he finally let himself come back to reality. Yes, Jon was alive, but that meant he would be coming back to the Institute. The thought made his stomach knot uncomfortably. He wasn’t ready to deal with that. Peter would try to do something, to bring Jon in on something. He could feel it. Martin couldn’t let that happen. 

The joy he felt seeing his words return was almost gone as the gravity of the situation came crashing down on him. As much as Martin wanted to stop everything with Peter, to finally talk to Jon and right all the wrongs, he knew he couldn’t. He had to keep up with doing what Peter asked of him. It was the best way to keep Jon safe. 

Maybe now he would focus on being more careful, making sure that he did stay safe and actively tried to not get himself killed, but he couldn’t stop whatever Peter had planned. He had to play along. He needed to serve as the distraction to keep Peter so focused on him that he didn’t try to hurt Jon. 

The thought killed him a little. He wanted nothing more than to finally talk to Jon, to lay it all out, and finally start to  _ really _ get to know his soulmate. To be there when Jon said it. But he couldn’t. Not yet. 

Martin dropped his arm down to his side and pushed himself up from his chair, finally taking stock of the room. Tea was everywhere, soaking into the rug and his chair, while his favorite cup lay in pieces. He supposed it was fitting that even finding out Jon was alive caused a bit of damage. 

He sighed and went to grab a towel and the broom. Maybe once that was cleaned up he could finally make another cup and relax. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some of you worried that martin would never get them back, but I'm not that mean. I won't hurt him that much. :) Hope yall liked it. As always, love to my beta reader pepperpotsnpans and love to all of you for reading!


	21. time, wonderous time

Jon sighed and rubbed at his temples as he wrapped up the statement. “Still no sign of Peter Lukas, of course, or-” he paused and rubbed at his eyes, trying to keep his tone even. “Or Mart- Wait,” he started, but everything in him was telling him to get up and open his office door. “ _ Wait _ ,” he said, quickly doing just that and rushing across the room to yank open the door. 

There he was, flicking through a file folder next to a stack of statements. He looked so normal, like it was no big deal that he was just milling about the Archives. Which, Jon supposed, it really wasn’t. “ _ Martin! _ ” he called, immediately starling the other.

“Jon,” he said, almost dropping the folder in his hands. “Um, hello.” He swallowed hard and gave a little wave, but he only stared at his shoes. 

“Er, hi. I… It’s been a while. I… I haven’t seen you since I got back… Since I woke up,” he stumbled over his words as he looked at the other, unsure of what to do. What to say. He had so much he wanted to ask, but their last proper conversation kept running through his mind. 

“Oh, yeah… Sorry about that. I’ve been… Busy,” he said quietly, tugging on his cuff. 

Jon ran a hand through his hair tiredly and shook his head. “Right, yes. Um… Basira said something about that. You’ve… You’ve been working with Lukas?” he asked, trying to keep his tone level, keep anything accusatory out. It wouldn’t be good to start a fight now. 

Martin smiled humorlessly and nodded. “Yeah. He’s… He’s kept me busy, that’s for sure.” Saying that, he looked almost as tired as Jon felt. 

“That… Martin, you know that he… It can’t be good that Elias appointed him as his replacement, right? That he’s-” Jon started, carefully choosing his words, but Martin cut him off with a snort. 

“That he’s a monster, as well, just of a different breed than Elias? Yes, Jon, thanks for that, but I already knew. I’m the one that’s been working for him for the last few months, I’m fine,” he said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes as he looked up at Jon, their eyes meeting for the first time in months. 

Jon winced a little and did his best to look apologetic. “Right, yes, sorry. I suppose I wasn’t thinking. You’re right,” he quickly backtracked, doing his best to hold eye contact. Maybe then Martin might see how badly he wanted to talk. 

He just shook his head again, using his free hand to rub at his eyes. “Yeah, suppose you weren’t,” he said, looking back down at the file in his hands. “It’s… Peter’s complicated, but it’s fine.  _ I’m _ fine,” he said in such a way that Jon wasn’t sure who Martin was trying to convince. 

“Of course… I’m sorry for assuming otherwise,” he tried, hoping to bridge the gap again. 

Martin just shrugged and checked his watch, sighing a little as he saw the time. “Look, Jon, I’ve-” 

“Wait.” Jon wasn’t going to let him leave without saying anything. He couldn’t. They needed to talk. Basira was right, he couldn’t just keep hoping there would be another chance. He was  _ certainly _ running out of luck now. 

Still, Martin’s words kept bouncing around in his head, though.  _ You’re so selfish.  _ They made him stop and consider his next words carefully. “I… I just… I wanted to talk to you. Please. How…” The exhausted look Martin gave him made him pause, his shoulders dropping a little before he continued, “How goes the poetry?” God, he was so stupid. The poetry? Really? That was the best he could come up with?

Clearly, Martin felt the same as he let out a surprised snort. “Sorry, um, haven’t really had time for it, I guess. Nothing of note to write about in the last few months,” he said, his hand absent-mindedly rubbing at his arm. The knot that had been forming in Jon’s stomach twisted painfully. 

“Oh, right… Of course. And you’ve been busy,” he said softly, racking his brain in hopes that he might find something else to talk about. Anything, really. Martin wasn’t going to let him finish that thought, though. 

“Look, Jon, I’m sorry, but I- I’ve really got to get going…” he said, looking at his watch again and avoiding eye contact with him.

Jon frowned deeply and clenched his hands into fists, stopping himself from reaching out. “Martin, wait, please. I… I know you might not want to discuss this, but… I am sorry. Truly. But… I think we need to talk?” he tried, carefully not broaching the subject himself. 

Martin just threw his head back and rubbed at his eyes, letting out a deep sigh. “Jon, please,” he pleaded softly. That knot in his stomach was only getting worse. He almost felt like he wanted to be sick now. He couldn’t let up, though. 

“I know it’s been six months for you, but… Well, for me it still feels like the last spoke still only feels like a few days ago and… I know- I think-” he stopped, frowning as he tried his best to put his thoughts into words. “If not right this moment, we certainly need to talk soon. I can’t- This shouldn’t just be something we keep putting off. And yes, I know I’m guilty of it, but… I’m trying to do better now. Please.”

Martin shook his head again, lightly gripping at his forearm. “I… Look, I’m sorry, but I really… I can’t talk about this right now. I… I want to, but I  _ can’t _ . I… I’ve  _ really _ got to go, okay? Maybe… Just maybe another time might be better. Not here, though. I’ve… I’ve got work to do.” He didn’t wait for another word from Jon as he spun on his heel and headed down the hall and out of the Archives, not even sparing a second glance over his shoulder. 

“Right…” he said softly, not even bothering to hold back how crestfallen he probably looked. “Another time,” he repeated, letting his shoulders fall as he turned around and headed back into his office. “It was good to see you, at least,” he said to himself as he clicked off the still-running tape and sunk into his desk chair. 

Jon put his head in his hands and tried not to let his emotions get the better of him. He supposed he really shouldn't have been surprised that Martin didn’t want to speak with him immediately. A lot had changed in the last six months.  _ He _ had changed in the last six months. But… At least it was a good sign that Martin wanted to talk eventually?

He lifted his head and let out a deep sigh before he worked on the buttons at his cuff, taking a moment to roll up his sleeve so that his words were on display.

“Took me thirty years to get to this point and of course now that I’m here, nothing can be simple,” he said aloud, squinting down at the writing. “Why can’t anything be simple?” he asked, using his free hand to prop up his head as he stared down at his arm. 

After years of ignoring his words, it was almost strange to now know them so well. Now he knew every twist and curl of Martin’s handwriting. He could probably trace it in his sleep, even where the burn has disfigured it. But as he stared down at the words on his arm, all he could think was one thing. Why did it seem like the words were getting lighter?

He wanted nothing more than to blame it on faulty memory, something to do with the coma, but that couldn’t be it. Nothing had been wrong with him when he woke. If anything, the last week proved to him that nothing had really changed. Well, except for the fact that his pull to the Archives was stronger and his… powers had gotten worse (better?). His memory was fine, perfect, really. 

So it couldn’t be that. The words were definitely lighter. Something wasn’t right with them. Months ago they were jet black against his skin, even where he’d been burned, but now… Now they were more like faded ink. He didn’t know what to make of it. Martin was still there, he was still alive and healthy. There was no reason for his mark to be fading. He’d never even heard of such a thing before. Words disappeared all the time, of course, but slowly fading away? 

Part of him wanted to unlock that pool of knowledge that was at the edge of his mind, to just Know what was going on without needing to look anything up, but… The thought scared him. Maybe there was a reason he’d never heard of words just fading away before. Maybe he didn’t really want to know.

Jon pulled down his sleeve again and buttoned the cuff, hiding his words from his view once more. Whatever it was, he was going to figure it out, but… But for now, for now he was just going to keep watching it. Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe it was nothing. Perhaps it was just a side effect of him dying and nothing was going on with Martin? 

Regardless, he was sure they would get to talk soon. He’d said it couldn’t happen there, in the Archives, so maybe Jon would try to catch him after work? He wasn’t about to just let it all go. They  _ needed _ to talk. But for the moment, he would give it a bit of time. See if Martin would reach back out to him again. That would probably be for the best anyway, he thought, as the word selfish once again bounced around in his head. 

Martin couldn’t avoid him forever, could he? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one was late this week! I had a draft all ready for posting on Sunday, but honestly it was Hot Garbage and I hated it, so instead of posting something I was unhappy with I took this week to rewrite it. Now I'm much happier with this version and I hope yall like it! To catch up with my posting so I still end on schedule (last chapter will go up the weekend before the magnus finale), expect two more chapter updates before next weekend! I've got 22 already done and being beta read (by my dear friend pepperpotsandpans) and 23 is half done! So expect the content to keep coming! Thanks yall for being here for the end! Hope you all like it and thank you for reading! <3 <3


	22. a string that pulled me

It had been getting harder and harder for Martin to ignore Jon. When he’d first come back, it’d been simple, all he had to do was avoid going down to the Archives. And with all the jobs Peter had given him, plus the instruction to stop being friendly with his coworkers, well… It wasn’t hard to just stick to his office and keep to himself. But now… Now it seemed like Jon was making an effort to get involved. To try and seek him out. Even with Jon out and traveling half the time, it had become hard to ignore him. Martin really shouldn’t have been surprised, though. He’d never been able to ignore Jon for long. 

He sighed and turned his focus back to his computer, pulling up his inbox and sorting through the emails that he’d needed to respond to on Peter’s behalf. His new role really wasn’t even hard, just a lot of doing all the necessary computer work and recording a few statements. Well, and the isolation. 

He clicked open a new tab and started typing up a response, referencing a few documents. He was so absorbed in making sure he got all the right details, that he didn’t hear the door open. 

“Martin!” the cheery voice came to his left, almost making Martin jump out of his chair in surprise. “How goes everything?” Peter asked, grinning widely. 

“Jesus, Peter, can you knock?” Martin said, one hand over his heart as he tried to steady his breathing. 

“Sorry, sorry!” he laughed, coming over to stand right beside him. “So, how’s the work going, then? Need any help?”

Martin took a deep breath and let it out slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. Everything is  _ fine _ . Even if I did need help, I’m not  _ entirely _ sure you could be the one to provide it?” he said, his voice slightly strained.

Peter just chuckled again as Martin grit his teeth. “Well, I suppose you’ve got me there! What about the other things we’ve been talking about? Still working on keeping yourself alone? Because  _ that  _ is something I  _ am _ qualified to help with,” he grinned, which only served to make Martin more annoyed. 

“Yes, yes… I’m still working on it. Isolating myself from everyone and only talking to them when it’s  _ completely _ necessary,” he said, rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes. “The invisible powers seem to be new, not sure I like them.”

“Oh! That’s  _ very _ good, you’re doing great, then! Well done!” he said, grinning somehow wider. 

“Right, yeah.  _ Thanks _ ,” Martin mumbled, somewhat sarcastically. 

“No, really. I know it must’ve been hard for you lately, what with your soulmate being back and all,” Peter started, but Martin’s eyes widened and he cut him off. 

“How did you know about that?” he asked, spinning to look at Peter, who only just laughed again.

“Oh, come on now, Martin. Do you really think Elias didn’t tell me things before I took over for him?” he asked, shaking his head as he chuckled. “He told me all that he thought was important and obviously that was very important information,” he said, giving Martin a pat on the shoulder. 

“Right… Right, of course he did,” he grumbled out, shrugging off Peter’s hand and spinning back around to look at his computer screen. 

“Anyway, as I was saying, You’ve been doing really well, even with him back. I promise it’ll start to get easier on you, the first few months are always the hardest to get through. Soon, though, you’ll get better at it and ignoring him will seem like second nature!” 

Despite Peter’s cheery tone, Martin had a hard time believing anything that came out of his mouth. “Don’t see how any of that could get easier,” he grumbled, clicking the mouse a few times. It wasn’t like Peter would really understand what he was doing on the computer anyway. 

“Oh, don’t worry, it will. You just need to give it a bit more time. Besides, Jon would start to give up on it soon enough, then it’ll be much easier for you!” 

Martin frowned and slowly spun back around in his chair, looking up at Peter skeptically. “Why would Jon start to give up?” 

Peter cocked his head to the side and gave him a somewhat puzzled look. “Oh? Did I not already tell you?” 

Martin was starting to get a bit worried now. “What are you going to do to him?” he asked slowly, narrowing his eyes at Peter. 

“Oh, no, I don’t need to do anything to him! If anything, you’re the one doing something.” If Peter laughed like that one more time, Martin didn’t know if he’d be able to keep his annoyance contained. 

“What am I doing? Besides just avoiding him?” Martin asked, his patience starting to wear a little thin. 

Peter shook his head a little, still smiling. “I guess I forgot to tell you. Sorry about that! You’re not doing anything to him, really, but that’s sort of the point. All you need to be doing is ignoring him and forming a stronger connection to the Lonely.”

Martin frowned, his brow furrowed deeply. “Okay… But what is that doing to  _ him _ ? Are you just saying that he’s going to stop talking to me because he’ll think I’m some sort of lost cause?” he asked, still not following. 

“Oh, no, not like that! Sorry,  _ this _ is the part I forgot to tell you. As you form your connection with the Lonely, it’ll start to cause the words on his arm to fade. Eventually, they’ll get light enough that he probably won’t even be able to read them. I think it took about four months for my soulmate, but you know how that old saying goes. Your mileage may vary. It should’ve at least started by now, though,” he said cheerfully, but all Martin could focus on was the cold dread that had settled in the pit of his stomach. 

“It’ll just… slowly fade away?” he asked, his other hand moving to grab at his own arm. 

“Yep! Yours will still be intact, of course, but his should be completely gone once we complete the ritual.” Martin had no idea how Peter could still be so happy after giving him news like that. How could anyone be happy after saying that in a couple of months time his soulmate will lose his words completely? And that the fading had already begun? He felt like he might be sick. 

“Right… You failed to mention that at the start of this,” he said slowly, turning to stare blankly at his computer screen. 

“Sorry about that! I could’ve sworn I’d mentioned it before. Oh well, you know now at least! Anyway, I should let you get back to it, I’m sure you have plenty of things to get done before the end of the day. Keep up the good work!” he said and turned on his heel and left the office again, the door clicking softly behind him. 

Martin dropped his head in his hands immediately and let out a shaky breath. He didn’t know what to do now, if he should even continue with anything. On one hand, if he carried on keeping Jon in the dark then he would still keep Peter occupied enough to keep Jon physically safe. But emotionally… Wasn’t Jon’s mark slowly disappearing just as bad as Jon going into the Unknowing and Martin seeing his own words disappear? Or really, wasn’t this worse? 

At least when Martin saw his words disappear, he knew what happened. Or, well, he thought he knew. Words disappeared all the time when someone died, it was normal. It was natural. This… This wasn’t normal. People just didn’t have their words slowly fade into nothingness, that didn’t happen. Jon would just be left wondering what was going on until it was too late. 

That thought made Martin’s stomach twist uneasily. He knew what it felt like to look down and see his bare arm. It was a feeling he didn’t think he’d ever forget and one that he certainly wouldn’t wish on anyone, least of all his own soulmate. That left him stuck in a predicament, though. He could either tell Jon what was going on… or he could leave him in the dark. 

Martin rubbed his hands over his face and breathed out a loud sigh. If he told Jon, then he was bound to deal with questions. Not only that, but Jon would sure to have opinions on the matter. He would no doubt think it was a  _ bad idea _ and would probably try to talk Martin out of it. Would he be able to handle that? Could he hold strong with his decision with Jon actively trying to point out every bad idea? 

That question made Martin pause. Could he? 

He lifted his head up and slowly unbuttoned his sleeve, carefully taking the time to roll up his sleeve and stare down at the words there. After nearly six months of nothingness there, Martin didn’t think he would ever get tired of seeing his words again. Each time was like the smallest bit of relief. He swallowed hard and slowly traced over the words with his fingertip. 

No. He wouldn’t be able to hold strong if Jon had tried to talk him out of it. Which meant… 

Martin dropped his head back into his hands, trying to focus on quelling his uneasy stomach. That meant he would have to keep Jon in the dark. He couldn’t tell him what was happening. He couldn’t talk to him and he would need to keep shutting him down whenever he tried to talk. 

The thought made him feel sick again. He tried to rationalize that he wasn’t  _ technically  _ lying, but it didn’t help. The idea of keeping Jon in the dark while his words slowly faded away into nothingness hurt him more than seeing his own words gone. It needed to be done, though. In order to keep him alive. 

With that, Martin made his decision. He sat up straight and slowly rolled his sleeve back down, buttoning the cuff and tugging on the end to make sure every word was covered again. He had to do this. For everyone’s safety. Blinking away any lingering emotion, he took a couple of deep breaths and turned back to his computer screen. Just a few more emails to send out before he could go home and have a hot cup of tea. Tea made everything better, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're really getting to the end of it now. ;-; Chapter 23 will come out on probably Wednesday or Thursday of this week and then we'll be back to Sunday postings for 24 and 25. 
> 
> Bit more context on why Jon is losing his words instead of Martin: 1) thought it would hurt more this way (sorry, ily) 2) I think it is more in the Lonely's brand to instead have the other person lose their words and therefore lose their connection to that person, rather than the other way around. It feels much more Lonely to know you still have a soulmate, but have them not know you still exist. Sorry that hurts so much tho ;-;
> 
> As always, love to my beta reader pepperpotsnpans and love to all of you for reading. Thank you all for reading and being along on this journey with me. Comments and kudos are very much appreciated. <3 <3


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